Desi Indian Aunty - I

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My heart races. What is he doing? Is he actually inviting me to experience him?"Perhaps I should allow you to try," I gasp at his words. "Of course, it would have to be from a purely medical perspective," He adds. "I'm thinking about fucking you in order to get your professional opinion of my size and your opinion of the potential operation."I can't believe the words I hear him speak. I feel as though I am in a dream."Of course, it would be only to get your professional medical opinion," He emphases. "It would be like an experiment and wouldn't be done for pleasure, although I am certain you would feel a great deal of pleasure, provided I could split your cunt far enough to accept me."His giant cock feels even longer at the sound of this suggestion. It seems to have become more ridged and I must hold tighter to keep it pointed straight up. I think he makes me an offer, but I'm not totally sure. I'm not sure of anything anymore. This is too unbelievable to be true."Well Martha?" Roger. Prissy says that she just loves boys and finds it great fun to tease them. And even more fun pleasing them. Kitty mentions that she must satisfy any boy Lady Victoria brings home. And right in front of Lady Victoria at that! You tell them, without so much as blinking an eye, that I, Mistress Katrina have trained you to be the perfect little cocksucker and fuck slut. The girls want to hear more. You tell them all about my methods. How I started you on sucking my strap-on. How I made you practice for hours on end. How you learned to give pleasure with your talented lips and tongue. How you mastered the art of deep throat. How you can swallow big, sticky loads of cum without spilling a drop. And how you lick your lips afterwards as a sign of appreciation. Then you explain how I took that asshole of yours and turned it into the perfect fuck machine. The way I loosened it with butt plugs and ass stretchers. The hours I spent fucking your pussyass with my 10" black strap-on.
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She asked me to give her my Beety’s keys and she’d get it fixed at her father’s workshop. I happily did that, we exchanged numbers, shook hands, and she drove on. All through the conference, I was physically very much there but my mind was talking with Jane non-stop. She seemed a very nice girl who maintained herself so well. Nails were perfectly manicured, makeup was tastefully applied, and dark brown hair had been curled and the tresses fell past her shoulders. ‘I think she’d be in her mid 20s or late 20s at the most, but she’s as innocent as a baby girl. What will you talk with her about at lunch? … Well, I think most likely about cars, because she wouldn’t be much interested in politics. Or what about fashion? But I don’t think she’d care much about it. Didn’t you see how simple she was! I think simplicity is …’ I was talking with myself when the chairman of the first session at the conference invited me to present my topic and a participant on my right poked his elbow in my.

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