Mast Hot Indian Aunty

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It was saras salil, a very common family magazines at Rly stations.I was feeling little sleepy as it was about 9 in the morning. After few minutes, she come out of the berth, looking on me from up only & asked me, if I am interested in reading magazines. I said, “sure”. Then she given me. I took it and again lied down. I tried to glance at the magazine. Then I came out of my lower berth as I was not feeling comfortable reading while sleeping without any support of pillow, etc. I found that she was also awake. She again smiled in a nice way. I really appreciate her moves, as she was with her family members.After some time, almost all passengers including her family members were sleeping as everybody was tired due to catching of early morning train. Train was moving very fast. I came out of my lower berth & sat on the side lower berth to relax only. I found she was pretending to be busy in magazine, but frequently looking from side of the magazine. Then I asked her, if she wish, to. Now our bedroom window faces the balcony and our bedroom wall shares the neighboring bedroom wall as well. So I went to the bedroom hoping maybe I could listen into their conversation. I was unable to make out what they were saying, but I could tell who was talking due to the tone of their voices. He was out there for almost ten minutes, then he came back inside. I dodged to meet him in the kitchen. He had this look of confusion on his face. "So what did she want?" I asked, trying to play it cool. "She wants....I....wow.....umm....." I so wanted to ask: "What's wrong? Pussy got your tongue?" but asked: "Really? Do you need help with the hard words? Shall I grab the dictionary?" "He responded with: "I might need a psychiatrist doll-maybe three-to explain what she wants. She offered a threesome." My pussy was dancing. "Really? Oh wow. What did you say?" "I told her that I love you and while I do find her extremely attractive-I would never cheat on you." Yeah, I immediately felt two.
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She was my first fantasy. I crafted an infinite series of scenarios, wherein I would seduce her- or, more often, be seduced by the more experienced woman. When I finished high school, my greatest regret was not that I would be moving on from my friends, but that I would never be able to again leer over the object of my affections. Still, I'd managed to weasel my way into being her favourite student; always eager to help out and performing above expectations in the assessments she oversaw. I parlayed that into a clinch on my last day at school, cozing up to her briefly and letting one hand wander as far down her back as I could with a crowd around me.That was the last time I saw her. Until today, that is. Whilst waiting in line at a coffee shop, it occurred to me that the woman in front of me was hauntingly familiar. When she gave her order, I was able to place her; the backside I'd been covertly appreciating was the one attached to the frame I still occasionally fantasised about. When.

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