Vintage Indian Babe

You, the stranger and I. Your voice is but a whisper, unheard, but felt deep in the marrow of my bones. I shudder, feigning reluctance as I slowly p...rt my thighs. The pulsating deep in my core explodes as your hand thrusts between my breasts, rough fingers pinching and twisting my nipples beneath my white cotton shirt. Your lips land on my neck, teeth nipping and marking my flesh. I arch wantonly, thrusting the supple white globes of my breast into the firm grip of your fist. A small pearl. “Look, Mrs. Watson, can I please go up to see John? Just for a little bit? Please?” “Oh, well…I don’t know…” Sharon said as she bit her lip. “I…I promise there won’t be any trouble. I’m just worried about him. Please…” William insisted, his determination apparent in his voice. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…” Sharon said, making up her mind. A while later, they were in John’s room, with William sitting on a chair beside the bed and Sharon standing by the door. John was. More

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