Indian Girlfriend Fucked Doggy Style

Sometimes she’d come out half dressed. Other times she’d not even bother with that, sitting across from me naked. I considered doing the same once or twice, but old habits die hard. Best I could do was skip the shirt and just put on jeans. She didn’t seem to mind.Afterwards she’d write. Not always, but usually, leaving me to my craft. The painting was coming along. After all, I was playing house with the inspiration. Also, in the back of my mind, I was aware that there was a deadline. She would move on at some point. When? I had no idea. Neither did she, I don’t think, but I wanted to finish it before she did. I wanted to share it with her before she left…If you’re wondering, I wasn’t in love with her. A little infatuated, perhaps, but I was no longer the somewhat nerdy teenage boy who was more into museums and galleries and art while everyone around me was into sports or video games. The kid who fell in love with the first girl who fluttered her lashes at me and fantasized about her. I was barely through the door when I was pressed firmly against the wall. His lips found mine in a desperate need. I found myself melting into his waiting arms, as his mouth pillaged my face, then down my neck and throat. A deep moan escaped me as his hands bared my shoulders, exposing my skin further. Shaking with need, I allowed him to taste my flesh. Instinctively, my hands found his hair as his lips blazed a trail across my chest, his fingers baring me further until my breasts sprung free of their silken traps. His hot tongue teased my aching nips, flicking them lightly before encasing them entirely within the scorching heat of his mouth. I would have collapsed if he hadn't been holding onto me so firmly.Just when I couldn't stand his assault, he stood up. His mouth sought mine as his hands trailed my thighs, and I was suddenly hoisted into the air. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me over to the bed. Instead of dropping me onto the mattress, I felt.
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