mexican night

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Ass

I was having dinner at a new Mexican restaurant in my hometown with a girl friend and her husband after another female friend was a no show. Naturally, dining with a married couple makes a single woman feel like a third wheel. I sat across from my friends as we munched through the chips and dip. Kathy’s husband has always struck me as, well, OK, good body, runs, bikes and swims but she has said little about their sex life. Oh the normal girl talk, sex just has not been one of our hot topics. I’ve been in their home, and in their pool, so it isn’t like I haven’t seen her — but never Jim. He’s always come in well-dressed, ankara travesti gone inside and left us to our floats and lotions and the sun. Before our entrees came, Jim managed to spill his drink. The waiter cleaned it quickly, but could not get it out of his bench seat cushion. He moved over to my side of the table and I gave it no thought.Jim draped his long cashmere dress coat over his lap and said little as he sat beside us. I  noticed  he never put his left hand on the table, always kept it in his lap. After about five or so minutes, I felt the touch of the back of his hand against my knee, it was a casual ankara travestileri brush and I thought nothing. A few chips later, the casual touch was back, but this time it was the tips of his fingers and they felt like fire through my pantyhose.Without so much as a blush, Jim pushed his hand up to the hem of my skirt, then eased it on up higher. I managed to keep a straight face as Kathy talked about the couple’s children and other trivial things. Our meals were delivered, but those fingers kept their presence, gently circling against my inner thigh. Feeling like a torch against the tightly stretched nylon of my travesti ankara hose. As I took a drink of my tea, Jim tried to push the hem of my skirt higher, but it simply would not go. Careful to maintain my composure, I lifted slightly and he shoved that skirt up to the bottom of my panties on my right hip. His hand instantly followed, his fingers tracing out the line of my underwear under the pantyhose. I thought things would end there, but it was only a moment before I felt a finger nail sawing at the tightly stretched crotch of my pantyhose and then, pushing through to gently massage the short, stiff hairs of my snatch through the thin, and wet, material of my panties. Jim seemed to know exactly what he was doing as he played there for several minutes. My eyes had to be misted over as he swirled his finger in among the curly hairs of my snatch.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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