Mote Mote Doodh Wali Desi Aurat Ki Garam Chudai Masti

Tim looked up at his pretty secretary. She was a gorgeous woman in her early 20's. She wore skirts too short and blouses too tight. It was clear to Tim that he could have her anytime he wanted. He had been tempted many times but had thus far resisted all her charms. He looked at the closed door with a frown then watched her walk over to the credenza that held the customer files."Everything is wonderful, Danielle," Tim smiled."I just need to get the Donnelly Fabrics file," Danielle smiled back and bent over to open the drawer.Tim wanted to look away but found his eyes drawn to her rear as she bent forward. The short skirt pulled up in the back until he could see just the hint of her nylon tops. He already knew that she never wore pantyhose. He stared, fascinated by her sexy legs and the shinny nylons covering her thighs. Suddenly, he realized that she was looking back at him. He felt his face flush and turned away."The file isn't there. It must be in your desk." She turned and started. Yet the vines clearly had the same goal. Her. Her four hundredth Midsummer was at hand. Yet, it was to be her last. She was to be sacrificed, so that her people could continue to prosper, to thrive. With the exception of the nearby stream and the very subtle rustle of the leaves of the ancient tree, all was absolutely silent. Even the young ones did not stir, did not cry, did not attempt to run and play. Every one of them knew instinctively that their future rested in her demise. A tear fell from my left eye, yet I could not bring myself to wipe it from my cheek as it slowly trickled downward. I had been accepted into this society, into this world, and she had been the first to greet me and bid me welcome and ensure my comfort despite the immeasurable distance from my own home. She and I had discussed this very event, this very morning, many, many times over the previous fifteen cycles. With each passing Midsummer, I slowly became more and more concerned and saddened by her.
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