Desi Aunty Fucking With College Boy

She asked if I had been practicing every day. I told her no. She said that because I’d told the truth she’d let me off with a warning this time, but next time she’d have to give me a spanking. She had such a sweet demeanor that I honestly thought she was joking. It didn’t help that she smiled when she said it. Of course I proceeded to blow off practice for another week. When I arrived at her house on Monday, the first thing she did was ask me if I had been practicing. With last week’s warning in mind, I said yes, of course I’d been practicing, though it quickly became obvious that I hadn’t been when I wasn’t playing any better than last week. She stopped me halfway through an exercise and told me to stand up. I did as she said, feeling rather guilty. It seemed as though the sweet house wife that taught me piano had been replaced by an angry nun. She had me kneel on the piano bench with my hands resting on the keyboard cover. Then she told me to lift up my skirt. Like a good Catholic. All they needed was a few coins for Felicity's pornography site, to control the vibrations in her cunt; they didn't even need to be in the same country, or continent."Holy fuck!" Felicity squealed for the third time in five minutes. She bucked her hips and ground her body into the seat, leaning forward in her seat and panting directly into the camera. I could see up her hosiery and stockinged legs, catching the tiniest triangle of fabric over her mons. "Holy fuck guys, which one of you has had control of my sex. I will come. I'm going to..."But she didn't. The sadist at the end of the Internet connection stopped her sensations just before her orgasm, not once or twice but a dozen times. As we motored down the M6 and through the roadworks, they took her to the very edge of her febrile peak; she groaned and screamed in ecstasy before being cruelly denied. Tears tumbled from her cheeks in frustration. Her sex itched with desire but only her remote control vibrator could bring her to.
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