Salmaa Ki Chut Mari My Friend Wife Salmaa

When he repeatedly suggested going out sometime, I always made an excuse or invented a diary clash.To his credit he never gave up, he asked again a few weeks later. As it happened, I’d been invited to a party and really didn’t want to go. His reaction was surprised enthusiasm when I agreed he could meet me at the party as my plus one. We agreed to meet at eight.The party was in full swing when I arrived. It took me a good thirty minutes or so of increasing misgivings before it slowly began to dawn on me that my date wasn’t going to show.Oh great, he’s stood me up. Another Friday night flying solo.A bit of a knob? No, a complete one, I rued.Feeling like a fish out of water, I decided I needed to lose my newfound wallflower image, so I put on my best poker face and began to mingle.Everyone, or so it seemed, had paired up. Couples were kissing on the stairs and fumbling in darkened corners. This particular fish felt even more out of water as I wandered through the rooms seeking someone. Only our slowly building, but perceptible, breathing could be heard.So I broke the ice. I reached up and unzipped “J’s” jeans, slowly peeling them off those beautiful legs. I kissed my way slowly up “J’s” thigh, rubbing and squeezing every place I kissed. And then I was there, nuzzling “J’s” crotch and breathing in that lovely, walnut-like smell.“J’s” finger’s danced over my scalp, gently guiding me to the spots that felt the best. I danced my tongue this way and that way. “J” squirmed and moaned with near release.“M” unbuttoned my shirt, fondled my nipples, then finally stripped it off. “M” unfastened my belt and tugged my pants semi-roughly down and off my legs. “M” kissed and nibbled my thighs, squeezed my ass, and traced electric circles down my calves.Then “M” started to fuck me slowly from behind. “M” stroked one way, then another, then down, then up, repeating the pattern until my moans betrayed my most sensitive spots. “M” fucked me the way I wanted to be fucked and I.
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