Indian Wife Lalita Singh Fucked In Green Saree

Forgetting the deadlline completely, I watched mesmerized as the bulge on her chest rose and fell with her breathing, standing out at all times against her flat stomach and narrow waist, partly obscured by the book. This sight was, even before I realized it, giving me a hard-on, and I couldn't help but lean closer, close enough to feel her warm breath brush against my face, her black hair caressing my face, even as she slept in blissful ignorance. Inspite of this proximity to her face however, I found nothing very attractive about her bespectacled, slightly freckled face, my attention shifting again to her tits, which were now barely inches from my hungry hands. For a moment I held myself, my common sense stopping me from sinking my fingers into the soft bulge before me. If she woke, it would probably be the end of my studies here. On the other hand, if the wind didn't wake her....My index finger soon rested on her stomach, poking her gently. No response. I placed the same finger on. Penis. She thought. The word came to her from nowhere. Then came another. Cock. His cock. Her hands glided up his thighs smoothly. Her eyes never left his as she wrapped her fingers around him. He was large enough that she could fit both her hands around it. She lowered her head towards the swollen, purple tip, and as she did other words came to her. Harlot. Slut. Whore . What did they mean? She wasn’t certain, but she liked the idea of them all the same. Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and twirled around the edge of his cock, before she took it into her lips. His face creased with a calming smile. “Mmmmm….yes….yes Eve…Worship it.” He moaned quietly. Her tongue moved around its tip methodically, flicking back and forth, as her hands slid up and down the shaft, squeezing and massaging as they went. He was so thick and solid in her mouth. She could feel it throb between her lips like a living thing. Her head moved faster. She breathed deeply from her nose. One of her hands pumped.
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