One night I was in my bed, thinking about that day and slowly masturbating, my finger s trying in vain to replay the feeling that she had given me. As...my climax approached I should have felt elated, but I just felt depressed. I eventually fell asleep, but the whole of the next day this sense of despair continued. By evening, pressed like sardines on the Tube, I was practically suicidal. No longer did I dream of her, I totally hated her for showing me what I could now never ever have again. I. She wore a yellow saree, a red blouse with a black bra. The blouse could not hold her boobs there anymore.Her lips were painted with light red lipstick and her nails with black nail paint. She tied her saree around her waist. I could get down and kiss her on her waist. Grab her boobs and do motorboat between them. I was thinking of all kinds of stuff.I enquired about Uncle, and she told me that he was in Hyderabad for some work. After a little while, she served dinner, and we ate together. It. More

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