Indian Desi Bhabhi Fucked Very Hard When Her Husband Was Not At Home

He came back to his desk and opened the side drawer. He took out a pair of medical gloves and put them on as he approached me. “What are the gloves for?” I asked, my voice shaking. He ran his fingers through my hair. I felt as if I was being reduced to an object. “The gloves are for my protection,” he said. He looked inside my ears and had me open my mouth. “Hold out your hands,” he said sternly. He examined my hands and between my fingers. He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t exactly gentle either. He nodded again as he picked up his folder and wrote inside it. “What are you doing to me?” I asked helplessly. “Take off your clothes!” he ordered. “What for?!” “I need to do a body cavity search.” “Wait, wait I don’t understand…” He gave me a sinister smile. “Now you know what the gloves are for,” he said. Slowly, I got up from my chair as the young officer stood before me. His hands were behind his back as he looked directly at me. I pulled my pink t-shirt over my head and took. So she drives… She drives down long, straight, dark roads, the only light the pale green glow of her dashboard and the bright, white headlights of approaching cars. She feels the tightness in her chest, the way it makes her breathing quick and shallow, the raw, dry ache in the back of her throat and the itchy heat behind her eyes as her vision blurs slightly, her arms feeling heavy and numb on the steering wheel, her head a dead weight on her neck as she sinks deeper into her seat under the pressure of her thoughts. She hates the way her life seems to have a soundtrack, music linked to people and places, memories. She hears the slow, sad strings begin at the start of the track as she reaches the top of the hill and looks down on the lights of the town below her – Lana Del Ray-Born To Die – it seems appropriate somehow, this will be the death of what they had together. The lyrics trigger images in her head as she drives too fast down the steep hill, how when they first started.
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