Indian Girl 21
Mark had been angling for anal since we got married and judging by his recent purchases of anal porn novels on our shared Kindle, another campaign of persuasion was under way. Should have made sure you kept our date, I chuckled to myself. My attempt to phrase an appropriate 160 character response was interrupted by the waiter. ‘The gentleman asked if you would mind sharing his table?’ A few minutes later I was sipping a glass of overpriced Chardonnay sitting opposite a well dressed businessman called Charles. Rather to my relief, he wore a wedding ring and made no attempt to buy my drink. Charles spoke with a rich English accent and a dry self-mocking wit. The conversation flowed easily and without pause until my second glass of wine arrived and I suddenly realized that for the past twenty minutes I had been doing all the talking. I had told him almost everything about myself, my life, the reason for the trip, and my frustration that Mark had blown off yet another Valentine’s date.. The doctor trained his gaze at the young woman. His fore finger was stroking her. Slightly. His hands were impatient to touch her increasingly wet pussy, his pants felt tighter, and he wanted to hear this girl tell him about being aroused. Her discharge was unlikely to be illness related—the fluid coming forth looked and smelled perfectly normal to him, and she had not mentioned, nor had he seen, any other symptoms. Her slickness was from natural, normal, horny, teenage arousal, and he wanted to lap up all the details he could get. His mind raced. Did she lust after anyone in particular? Perhaps a friend? A teacher? Has she experimented? Did she touch herself? Has she gotten herself off? What did she look like when she came? What did she taste like? He struggled to maintain a professional mask of calm openness. She looked at him and took a breath. She would tell him. She had too. Just to make sure nothing was wrong. He was a doctor and would be honest with her and take care of her..
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