I was in first year of my college. There was constant hard on and always starving for a good, hot and juicy fudi. We used to get by reading some Massa... ram novels and eventually masturbate. This is something very difficult to explain but people who is going through or have gone through can only appreciate what one goes through when you are that age. I used to view any and every female with only one object -sex or more precisely fudi, choot, bhosdi. I was constantly looking for that hole at any. She is getting closer to the edge now. I firmly close my fingers around her clit, stilling my questing fingers and tongue. She hangs by a single thread of reality as I hold her undivided attention. I raise my hand. She follows like a marionette arching her back. I prop her up with my free hand and hold here there of a few seconds suspended between discomfort and pleasure. Releasing her she subsides slowly back to the bed taken slightly away from the edge of oblivion; but only a little, just. She was out of town on vacation with her family. As a tease she had text'd you a picture of herself posing in front of a bathroom mirror in just a sexy pink lace bra and panties. You caught a glimpse of someone behind her but couldn't make out who, chalking it up to family--which would have made you chuckle just thinking about the fact your girlfriend had been caught posing like that by her family if the picture had not turned you on so much.So there you were, wet, frustrated sexually, sitting. I turned to speak to him, but he was suddenly all over me like a whirlwind. His mouth found mine, one hand cupped my right boob and the other slid underneath the hem of my skirt.I gasped out loud and tried to push him away, but he was too strong. His thick lips were all over my neck and he was pinching my nipple between his fingers."Wait, wait," I told him, trying to catch my breath. "I'm married, Antony."I naively held up my finger to show him my wedding ring, as if that gesture offered me.
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