Indian Newly Married Village Girl First Night

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I went to her room and knocked on the door.Me: Di, open the door. It’s me, please!Vini di: Just go have fun with your girl and don’t disturb me.Me: Di, please let me explain. So, open the door.She opened the door and let me in. Meanwhile, my aunty gave me her lunch which she asked me to make her eat. I entered the room and closed the door. Now, she was sitting on the bed in her white nightdress. (till her thighs) You can trace her lingerie through the semi-transparent cloth which was red in color.Damn! She was looking hot in the dim light. Well, I ignored the details. I directly went to her and asked her “What happened?” She kept her mum turned to me and hugged me and started crying in my bosom. I also consoled her and this shit went on while we sat in that position for almost 2 hours.Because of her nonstop crying my shirt was drenched in the tears completely.She slept while still in embrace. Dude, now I realized something soft was touching on my chest. The view was awesome the jugs. I was continuing to lower my face until my mouth was accommodated maximum possible length of his long fucking tool. The stroking between my lips was slow and sensual and my tongue was caressing his shaft which I was drawing into my mouth. He was looking right back at me, almost mesmerized as I slowly moved my face up and down and back and forth, with his cock sliding in and out of my pretty mouth. Although the sight was a delightful one, and the gentle slurping and lapping sounds I was making were pleasing to our ears as always, the physical delights his cock was receiving from my mouth was better than anything for him. I was moving slowly and we both were enjoying the blow job act. He used to get the full benefit of my warm, wet chamber of my mouth. "I really love that," he told me. "I love what you are doing." I smiled, but could not say anything because my lips were being shaped by his big round shaft passing in and out between my lips. I like hearing things like what he had just.
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‘Charlotte,’ he speaks urgently, yet under his breath, even though we are the only two within earshot. Then, as if having a change of heart, his demeanor softens into a more friendly tone. He hesitates before asking, ‘What time do you get off today?’ I pause in disbelief. ‘I clock out at 6 today.’ Is he about to suggest we meet up? Our eyes hold for a few seconds as he seems to be making a decision. ‘Would you like to join me for dinner tonight? I can pick you up at 7:30.’ I stare blankly for a moment that feels like eternity. I haven’t been asked on a date since my sophomore year in high school. ‘That sounds nice,’ I breathe. ‘Okay, great,’ he says with a slight catch in his voice. Out of nowhere he produces a small piece of paper and hands it to me, our fingertips touching for a bit longer than usual for passing a note. ‘Here’s my number. Text me where you want me to pick you up, and I’ll be there at 7:30 sharp.’ All I could manage was to smile at him, but that’s all he.

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