Indian Hindi Mom Catches Son Smelling Panties POV

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My pussy has gotten wetter in just a matter of a few seconds. I want to be fucked by you again. I don’t know how much longer I can wait. “ I say.You hear me. Just hearing those words about my wet pussy has you very much more aroused now. You just have to find out how wet I am for yourself. If I am as wet as I say that I am, you just know that you’re going to end up picking me up and carrying me to your house. Just so we can get there. You move your hand off my back going towards my hips. You find my hips and you move your hand towards my pussy. You find my pussy. You then take one of your fingers and shove it inside me.I feel your finger inside me and I moan loudly into the rainy night air. I start instinctively riding your finger like a cock for I cannot help myself. You feel me ride your finger. You shove it up deeper inside me enjoying the feeling of my pussy once again. You feel how wet I truly am. I feel you shove your finger deeper inside me. I moan louder wanting to be. I played the roll of a slut and I became one? How could he forgive me? How can I forgive myself? Thursday October 30, 1980 Dear Diary: I could not bring myself to write these last three days. My mind has been awash with feelings of dread and anger. I taught my lessons without energy or joy. My steps were so heavy Monday and Tuesday that several students asked why I looked so sad. I really should have taken the days off but I needed to do something to distract me from wallowing in my misery. Ruth is a godsend. She has quietly comforted me. She cooked the meals and repeatedly listened to my self incrimination. She has not judged me, including when I confessed what I happened with Maria and Ken in September. She listened quietly with a sympathetic look. For whatever reason, Monday after dinner I gave Ruth Louisa’s and Ken’s letters to read. She was crying when she finished them. I cried with her. I cried for a different reason than Ruth. I cried fearing that I had lost my love. Ruth.
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’ ‘Don’t be crazy,’ he said, pulling a black T-shirt over his head. ‘Yer pop will get here or we’ll go find him. I’ll give you a lift into town after dinner. You’ll go on home tonight one way or another.’ ‘Don’t…don’t you want me to stay?’ ‘What the hell for? This joint? You don’t like it any here, girl, and don’t go telling me different.’ ‘Not the place, no. Of course not,’ I said with a slightly teary laugh. ‘The food’s bad and the people aren’t friendly. Or too friendly. But that’s got nothing to do with *you*. It’s *you* I was meant to be with. Don’t you understand…what I mean?’ The rider pulled his hair out of the neckline of the shirt and looked skeptically at me, obviously the thought had never yet crossed his mind and was having a tough time making it from one side of his brain to another. ‘You sound like you need a little food in ya, girl. Come on downstairs.’ He put an arm around my waist and urged me along. I sighed through a smile. Of course this sounded strange to him–it.

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