My Cute Indian Wife -indian Diva (hindi) Part 3

“I am going to come over in a few nights and show you all these pictures. Lillian, you will be very impressed at how…how beautiful you actually are,” he said. She did not believe him. Tuesday late afternoon came. He rang her doorbell and she answered. She was a perfect hostess and they sat down so she could view all the pictures he’d taken of her. “My Lord, Marvin…these are of me, really?” He said yes. He showed her all the other pictures too. “Wow…these can’t be of me. I’m just not…I’m not. As the intensity of the moment passed, she realized that he was no longer working her boobs. His strong hands were rubbing her stomach and heading south. She opened her eyes and met his smirking gaze. With his hand over her pubic mound he said, “You’re some hot babe, Ma’am.” Then he asked, “Do you want me to fuck you, Ma’am?” The words caught in her throat, rendering her speechless as his thick digits swept across her mons. His banana-like forefinger slipped between the lips of her slickened. “Yes, it’s Minacou,” she says into her cell phone. She’s sitting on a bench a few yards away from the wharves letting the sun finish drying her after her impromptu dip. “Jason, I can’t thank you enough for calling me, she told me she was nearly ready to give up.”“My God,” comes his voice softly. “How is she?”“Hell, how are we all?” she asks rhetorically. “A lot older, a good deal creakier, a few scars here and there from the wear of time, but all in all she’s pretty good. When she heard me. We made a nest by the fireplace; wine and glasses, pot and the lingerie she had selected to dress me with. With her lipstick and gloves she shucked my boy clothes off like a pod. She held her lips by my mouth when she was “helping” me with my panties and stockings, my bras and high heels. I could smell her sweet smell and I fell to her spell. She fastened my garter belt to the tops of my seamed stockings and toyed with my bottom. I ached to show her how far I would go to obey her if she let me.
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