Indian Girl's Arse - 5

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It was tempting though. A bonus ability he'd discovered was that the AIs took amazing class notes.Waylon's final's schedule worked out nicely. He was finished with his last class by midweek. After his exam, he walked through campus eager to get on with his plans. There was considerable noise around the dorms as students were departing for the break. His dorm was one of only two that would remain open while the university shut down between semesters. A skeleton staff would be on hand, and one of the dining halls would serve a limited meal schedule.He checked his phone to see if he had any updates from Alphonso. The list for the weekend CHL classes had been firmed up. He would have eighteen students the first day, and six the second day. Alphonso had received all the deposits, and Waylon would collect the balance during class. After expenses, he'd cut Alphonso in for his share and walk away with a nice chunk of change.Garage on Fifth StreetMr. Newberg handed Waylon his change and a key. She asked me for help and I went on o help her. Initially I tried catching her armpits and I tried lifting her but my hands were slipping from the salwar suit she was wearing. Don’t know whether it was the rain or material of the dress. After a few attempts of those; I asked her to try climbing by herself again. While she tried it again I gave a push on her ass lifting her. That was the first time my dick stood because of my aunt.Finally after reaching home dirty and drenched in rainy asked to give the wet clothes and asked me to take a nice hot bath. I went to my room and got undressed. I was sill horny after that touching the ass incident. I wore a Kerala towel (white and thin form of towel), took my wet clothes to my aunt. She was wearing a green nightie folded up till her knees revealing her legs and a bit of thigh. I asked her to put some oil in my hair. She obliged and asked me to take a seat. While giving hair massage I asked her is it necessary to take a bath. She replied.
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She’d arrive back home feeling she’d achieved something and it would proceed like clockwork: Her father, eyes sad, would have his belt in his hand and would say he was sorry to do it but her mother insisted that he try to belt out the resistance in the rebellious brat. During that night, when her mother was asleep, her father would come to Kitty’s bedroom and rub liniment on the welts on the back of her legs and without being asked would pull over a chair and in a low voice would tell Kitty some of the hundred or so stories about the atrocities and the stupidly hurtful things the two feuding families – the Carringtons and the Carlisle-Bowdens – had done to one another simply because after time it became what those families did. ‘You are a hot-headed little bitch,’ he’d say, kissing her when leaving. ‘You’ve got to promise you’ll never do harm to a Carrington. God the last three generations of our family tried so determinedly to stop this mindless vendetta and look where that got.

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