Aunty Ki Garmi - Hindi Web Series

He couldn’t go. He stayed in the workshop past midnight. There was a methodical, unemotional satisfaction in doing the same things. Sawing, sanding, painting, varnishing. The smell of wood and paint and solitude. Company seemed overrated – at least it had done since Maia had left. If he let his mind run free, she’d be back there, seventeen years old and perched on the edge of the old workbench, talking and laughing and just existing. Real and alive.They hadn’t even been friends to begin with. He knew her older brother. She was there in the pauses, the moments in-between, the flashes of possibility in endless weeks of monotony. Alone together with nothing to say. No manual on how to act. She always seemed so very female; the archetype of a girl, with dresses and braided hair and clean fingernails. Beside her he felt like something offensive. Vulgar and coarse and too loud and too far gone to change. But she watched him like he was interesting. Like he had something she. I know I should have been indignant but I realized they were brought up to a boiling point by the hedonistic Dolly flaunting her female goodies.My knickers were rudely snatched down and I allowed my admirers to maul me more in trembling anticipation than in disagreement. I was able to see the shocking size of my pair of frisky guides in the flickering lantern light and my cock-starved pussy began to leak in earnest. I noticed that Dolly was already flat on her back under the weight of one of the Bedouins who was pumping his dark-skinned cock as deep as he could get between her pale white legs. I stifled a laugh just to hear her yelp with each deep insertion. Then, I was immersed in my own predicament with two sturdy fellows unleashing their uncut tools to batter my pulsating pussy and my willing, wet mouth. I did my best to concentrate on the frowning lad in front of me so that I could capture his load inside my saliva drenched lips.The tool of the guide mounted so knowingly astride.
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