Shy Busty Indian GF Gets Fondled.
When dad died I wasn't yet three years old. And so, my only memories of my father were the stories I'd heard from mom and gramps and the meager photographic evidence he'd left behind.But there weren't that many photographs ... not that many films of my dad and mom. They'd only known each other for less than four years and dad had been away for over two of them.Mom and I watched the film silently for over an hour — both of us lost in our own private thoughts but drawing warmth from the contact between our bodies. Tears silently flowed down mom's cheeks much of the time as she watched the man she'd loved. And it was almost as bad for me as I sat watching my gramps up on the screen, the man who'd raised me, dead only just over a year now.And yet as I watched I was continually aware of the warmth of mom's thigh against mine, of her soft dark hair nestled against my cheek, of the glimpses of her full, milky white breasts, of her perfume ... of how the cloth of her pajama bottoms would. I stopped a distance away from her. She still looked afraid, almost as though she was thinking of standing up and running. I moved backwards and sat on the vacant couch, the other girlfriend, not awake, was sitting in the other armchair.“Let me start again, my name is Mike, and I have been trapped in a doll’s body for a little over a week now. My body is lying in a coma in the local hospital. I tripped and fell one night. There is a Barbie here, her real name is Barbara, she has been in a coma for four years now, she is about eighteen, still thinks like a fourteen-year-old. Ken is a little boy, I think that he hasn’t been comatose for long, but he is a little boy, can’t tell us his name, or what happened to him“I am going to presume that the sirens I heard earlier had something to do with your sudden appearance here.”She opened her mouth and shut it again. I waited.“I didn’t hear any sirens,” she eventually said. “My boyfriend and I, we’re at college together, we were on our way.
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