Bhabi Boob Pressed By Husband

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He had given me his phone number. He had asked me to call him anytime I felt the need of a friendly ear.Well, if ever I needed 'a friendly ear', it was now. I went to my phone desk. I found my address and number book, for contacts. I looked up his number. Picking up the phone, I dialed his it."Hello?" a loud and gruff voice answered."Matt? This is Franklin Farrow. I was wondering if we could get together..." I began a bit hesitantly."Frank! How are you, boy? Doing all right? A meeting? Well, you would have to come out here for a face to face. I broke my damned leg a couple of weeks ago, and I don't get around too well, right now," Matthew Baxter boomed loudly.That was just the way he was. He never spoke, he 'boomed'. He was as much larger in real life, as his characters were in the books he wrote. We talked for a few more minutes. I got his address, and directions on how to get to his place. I hung up, and called the local airport, to book a flight.Matthew Baxter was a fantasy. Then I satred rubbing my swollen pussy lips. My cold fingers against the smooth shaved skin made mr shiver but not from the cold. Slowly my middle fingertip touched my hardened clit. I closed my eyes and let go a long whistle…I had just pushed that finger entirely up my hungry cunt when I Heard a car coming around the bend in the road and I felt I was revealed in all my exposed glory. Unthinking, I began to wave my hands wildly. This was the first car that had driven pass in all the time I had been stuck here and I was not going to let it get away. I did not care who was driving the car or if he would have a very good view of me... The freezing rain had plastered my clothes to my voluptuous body. The cold wetness had my tits rock hard with my nipples very visible. Even as the driver pulled in behind my car and she I plastered in its lights, I continued to pee. And I did not realize that I still had my finger stuck up my cunt and the two people in the car could see me.The car door.
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She had thought of calling him then, using the excuse of congratulating him on his ninth novel as a chance to hear his voice, but she had talked herself out of it even as her hand hovered near the phone. After all, it was Friday night. Someone who loved life as much as Steve Valentine probably wasn’t even at home, and if he were, he wouldn’t be alone. She knew Steve was single because she had helped him with his income tax. So what would his companion look like? Certainly not like the woman staring back at her from the car mirror. A woman whose too-large sunglasses concealed bloodshot eyes in puffy cheeks, whose limp brown hair refused the authority of any brush, whose best friends Jolly and Molly purred her to sleep every night and stepped on her face every morning. She sighed and pinched her belly. Hours at the gym barely kept her waistline in check, and did nothing at all to reduce it. She waited in silence in the shade of a sprawling palm tree, too nervous even to turn on the.

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