Indian Aunty 1099

You can’t wait to tell your online friend about what a naughty girl you have been, you’re going to tell him all the details, hoping he's wanking that big cock as you tell him. You lick your fingers clean and think about getting dressed, your bra is soaking wet from the stream and your knickers are god knows where by now. You put your bra in your bag and slip your top back on and pull your skirt on too. You look in the stream for your knickers but they are no where to be seen. You’re secretly quite glad, you like the idea of having to spend the rest of the day walking round in a short skirt and strappy top with nothing underneath. You sit back on the grass and put a bit more sun cream on, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. You relax on the grass for a while, lost in the lovely day. After about thirty minutes you can hear some noise. It’s coming from over the hill, all laughing and giggling, it sounds like a bunch of girls messing around. You’re pissed off, thinking that. Maybe Michael had finally taken him home. That thought actually made her sad. He'd texted her about a million times asking her where she was. When she’d finally told him she was at the Montenegro estate, he’d gone silent. Abigail wondered if he was mad. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was jealous of his brother. As for Daniel, it made her angry he saw Gabriel as little more than an illiterate delinquent who needed saving, quite preferably in some gilded cage with surveillance. She opened the front door and rocked back on her heels when the blast of music hit her full force. Mouth gaping, she rushed in and locked the door behind her. The squeal of guitars sang through her eardrums, the bass and drums vibrating through her feet from below, and Gabriel’s voice almost had her going to her knees. For long seconds she couldn’t move, just absorbed it all in, until Gabriel began crooning her name, long, low, guttural. Good-lord! It was a song about her. She stumbled her.
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