Spying On Indian Slster

"Wasn't what?" "He wasn't you." She couldn't meet his eyes but knew what she wanted, what she needed. "So you're not married any more?" "No, you're not seeing anyone?" She shook her head. "No." Her voice was a breathy whisper and he growled low in his throat as lust hit him. He needed her. "You're coming home with me." Her breath stuttered and she looked back into his green eyes. His hair was longer than before and curled messily around his head. He hadn't shaved and red stubble covered his chin and cheeks. "Yes, sir." He placed money on the table and pulled her to her feet. He lead her from the bar and into the Bentley that waited outside. She felt her friends' eyes on her back but didn't turn, as he opened the door for her and she slid inside. He leant forward to speak to the driver before settling back next to her. Neither of them spoke as they drove and he stole glances at her from the corner of his eye. She was looking around the back seat of the car marveling at the. She swam and splashed and washed her taut brown body. She reveled in the touch of her fingers as she caressed her nipples and her tight nether lips. She became overly aroused as she washed her lower body, running her fingers between her buttocks and raking them through the sparse red hair above her slippery slit.With one hand over her scalding hot opening and the other clamping onto her right nipple, she gained release from the sensations caused by her tender little pussy rubbing the saddle seat since early morning.She dried and dressed with her large breasts pushed high and tight while she laced her vest. Then she pulled on her skin-tight leather breeches and slipped her small feet into her moccasins. As she strapped her gun belt around her slender waist, she heard her mare whinny and the sounds of her horse bucking and kicking as she stomped the ground. Ida ran out onto the grassy plain in time to see a skinny fucking Mexican vaquero on a Pinto horse leading her sorrel mare off to.
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