Desi Aunty Fucked By Hubby’s Friend In Hotel Room

She yearned for his touch. Lying down face first on the bed, handcuffed and blindfolded; filled only with suspense, but she yearned to be filled with something more. A finger entered her from behind and she moaned at his touch. He explored her wet little hole with a single finger at first and then two as he pushed her head down harder into the pillow in front of her.He firmly grabbed her ass and spanked her with vigor and intent, only for her to moan more, simply filled with bliss from his firm touch. One finger slid in, then two, filling her up even more. His tongue graced her thigh, trailing from one first, and to the other. A gentle bite on her ass followed by more spanking, two fingers deep into her pussy. It was all for her, this night, his touch, the candles and the ambiance. All this pleasure was for her to enjoy.She moved her ass up and down to the rhythm of his fingering. “More,” she begged in time for his tongue to grace her pussy.Two fingers deep, with his tongue inside her. Down the asphalt highway I could see half a mile in either direction. There was no wagon, no dust. Just a peaceful afternoon, the sun working its way through thin clouds to another prairie sunset. A shudder went through me. Only those who have brushed against the bizarre and the inexplicable can appreciate how I felt at that moment. For days my mind was plagued. That wagon and its passengers had seemed as real as anything I had ever seen in my life. And mundane, not in the least frightful. Merely impossible. What could it mean? The days turned cold. Just after Thanksgiving I was awakened one morning at dawn. Above the keening wind I could hear a familiar unmistakable sound from my backyard: an axe being used to chop firewood. Crack! came the sharp report every few seconds, as another oak piece was split. Be nice to have wood for the fireplace, I thought. But then I shuddered again. Because the rick of firewood I had recently bought was already cut and stacked. And my own axe was.
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