Indian House Wife Fucked By Delivery Boy - Hindi Story

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" and she squatted above it, smiling at me."Pull my pillows over and put them under your head," she said as I felt the heat of her cunt teasing the head of my penis, "Watch it going in darling."I did and groaned with pleasure as I watched (and felt) her beautiful labia parting for my cock! Never once did I take my eyes off the deliciously wanton spectacle, being practically unable to move was a very strange feeling, I felt almost like a voyeur watching from elsewhere, only the exquisite softness of her cunt reminding me, it was real, oh fuck yes, was it ever real?"Welcome home." she whispered as she settled down on my groin, every one of my seven inches embedded inside her body."Now just lie there and let me fuck you."I didn't have much choice, but it was beautiful, absolutely beautiful, in spite of what she'd said, she didn't fuck me, she made love to me, to my cock, she bent forward to kiss me, teasing my naked chest again by scraping her nipples across it.Her breath was warm,. It was mostly on open roads and it was only when we got into the city centre and had to stop at traffic lights that I saw that a couple of young men had seen us but by then I had warmed up and I turned to look out of the van door window so that the young men could get a better look at my tits.Steve had been talking to Lisa on the phone during the journey and she’d invites Isla and me to their house for a meal.“Saves me cooking something, thank you Lisa.” I said with her on speaker.Steve and Lisa live in a big house on the outskirts of the city and there was plenty of space in their driveway for his car, Lisa’s car and the van.“This is nice.” I said as I opened the van door to get out causing my nipples to go rock hard instantly.Lisa must have heard or seen the van arriving because she was coming out to greet us.“Where are your clothes girls?” Lisa asked.“In the back of the van somewhere.” I replied.“Never mind those for now, come on in where it’s warm.” Lisa said. I could see Isla.
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She is in many ways the opposite of me. Although I like going out into the countryside, I’m an urban creature through and through. Gemma is a dyed-in-the-wool country woman. She lives on the outskirts of Lincoln, a small town a few kilometres from Christchurch that is the home of a university that, like my own, Massey in New Zealand’s North Island, began as an agricultural college. It was there that she had her academic career, from which she took early retirement to start up her own successful consultancy business. I’m slender, a bit too tall to be described as short, fair-haired and brown-eyed, with breasts that I have often wished were rather bigger. Gemma is tall and luxuriantly built, with hair in which grey mingles with her slightly faded auburn. She has generous hips, a fantastic arse, and breasts that have become a little more pendulous over the years but are still to die for. I have always envied her ability to lick and even suck her own nipples; by the same token, I’ve lost.

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