Indian Couple First Night After Marriage

But it wasn’t my office line, it was my cell. I had forgotten to put it on vibrate so it rang really loud. I silenced it and looked who it was. Jen! At a Friday at 11:45am?! I closed my door (a luxury that some don’t have) and quietly answered “Hello?” Jen answered “Hey, it’s Jen. Can you talk?” “Sure, what’s up? You alright?” My paternal instincts took over. Giggling on the other end “Yeah silly. I’m in Chicago! I want to see you for lunch.” I couldn’t believe my ears. And I felt a playful twitch in my cock. In fact, he took over. “How soon can you be at my place?” I asked. “I’m sitting in my taxi at your front door, and I’m not wearing any panties…” My dick grew 3 inches in about .5 seconds. I said quietly into the receiver “Baby, don’t move a muscle. I’ll be there in 5 minutes.” With a sultry, low, seductive voice “Don’t make me wait too long” and hung up. I closed the phone grabbed my coat opened the door and shut the light with one swift motion. I nonchalantly said to my buddies. Lizzy tried to contact her mother, Sir Malcolm’s first wife, Lady Lesley, but was continually rebuffed. By shutting off all contact with her family and filling her time with work, she built herself a life of sorts. A life devoid of love and companionship. Eventually her snail mail caught up with her habitual global travelling. The wedding invitation came a week ago, along with a sackful of other communiques, so she only got around to opening it the day before yesterday. The invitation, which shook Lizzy out of her self-imposed exile, was to attend and celebrate the marriage of her kid sister Molly to Lizzy’s ex-fiancé, Stephen. Did they both disrespect her so much to add this insult to her tragic tale? She caught the first flight back to London and extracted her classic sports car from the garage which regularly maintained it. She pulled up outside the old hospital in a cloud of choking cement dust. The hospital had been spruced up since she had last seen it, the tarmac surface of.
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