I was continuously staring at them. Specifically their butts and boobs. So much so that mom had to actually tell me to concentrate on my breakfast. On... key thing I had noticed was, since we had started from Delhi mom was having her pallu very low. Almost revealing one of her blouse covered breast. Shamelessly, I stared at her part exposed boob and said “OK”. It seemed that me staring at her did not matter.Here I would want to mention that my mom is a typical Indian woman – a 5’2″ height, well. The young woman gathered up her crying child, be it truly boy or girl, and held Sara close. She really didn't know what to believe. Everything she saw said she was holding her son, but everything she felt in her heart said otherwise. She rocked Sara until both their tears stopped and then finally came to a decision. She told Sara she did believe in her, but that for now, Daddy would not. The welts on the girl's legs and back served as a painful reminder of his disbelief. So, Sara's existence. I could feel it go under my dress and lightly stroke me through the silkiness of my tights. My pussy was calling onto him. I needed him to touch me there. ‘I’m wearing tights,’ I hissed, angry at myself for choosing it. I wanted his long manly fingers stroking my bud and teasing me to orgasm. ‘Fuck, I want to touch your pussy now,’ he breathed roughly, showing just how much he wanted to through the kisses he was attacking me with. He used his tongue and licked along my jaw line, planting a kiss. I noticed Dwayne had grown rather quiet during the dance, which was unusual for him. Dwayne does not usually mind who I dance with, knowing he is not a very good dancer, as long as they follow a simple rule; they buy a round of drinks for both of us. So I spent a little bit of time, dancing with a couple of rather nice men. It sure seemed to be getting hot in the place. I did not know if it was from the weather, the crowd that had appeared, the dancing, or the alcohol; but the place was really.
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