A Bengali Sex Story

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She was like a drug; I wanted more and more of her.By the end of the night, even before I had taken her home. I couldn’t get enough of her. I wanted her so much, so many ways. Even before we started stripping on my front lawn, before we tripped over my coffee table. Before we woke my room mate up, all I wanted was to take all of her, never letting go. Keep this feeling forever, she made me feel so young. She looked to be in her early twenties, did she realize I was in my thirties?Doesn’t matter! I thought to myself, as she let me pin her to my bedroom door. She had peeled off my shirt, had dug her nails into my shoulders. As I lifted her up against the door, grinding her hips up against mine. Moaning, grinding up against my thickness seemed to drive her crazy; she was kissing me, pulling at my belt, almost arguing. After taking a few moments, she laughed at the buckle. I was still trying to get her bra undone!I had to calm her down; she seemed so wanting. Kissing her, she started. Irene, my wife, is very close to Mary. They are long time friends. They go all the way back to kindergarten, they are like sisters. I can see why, Mary is a likable girl, pretty too. But why she ever married this Phil may forever be a mystery to me.He is the slick, cold, easy-going role model of an overpaid corporate ass-saver if you ask me. To begin with it doesn't help that he doesn't have to work for a living. He is rich. Not wealthy, but rich. Philthy rich, as Irene jokes. Which he doesn't like. Shows he is a humorless prick to boot.I don't know what Mary ever saw in him. He must be cheating on her big time. He even flirts with Irene right in front of her. And even in front of me. Irene says it doesn't mean a thing. I am not so sure. But hey, she knows him forever.We were at their Long Island home a lot this summer. Posh place in the Hamptons. Big garden, pool, tennis court, you name it. Well, I never complained. Anyone living on Manhattan in summer would be mad to turn down an.
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"Look, he's fixed to some sort of post," Coral pointed to the broad collar and chin brace that held his head erect. At the back of his neck the collar was connected to a steel rod that ran down the back of the slave's leather suit and into a fixture on the floor. Other straps built in to the suit fastened him to the post as well. He couldn't move much if he wanted to. "And that lamp's hot. He must be really sweating."He certainly was. The sweat was running down the slave's face inside his hood. He comforted himself with the knowledge that it wasn't one of the worse assignments that he could have as part of the hotel fixtures. Plus, he knew that if he managed to do a good job for a year or two, there was a chance that he would get an easier job in one of the other sponsored staff roles. All he had to do was to keep his mind on keeping still and not thinking about the heat.It was a similar task for the occupant of the Princess Suite's closet where another leather suited, hooded and.

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