Hot Indian Girl Bathroom Romance

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A small knock rapped on the wooden door to the study."Come in," I called out.The door creaked open. Sarah padded slowly into the room. Her eyes were focused down on the ground in front of her. She was carefully not looking at me.She was holding a steaming mug in her hands.Her dress was even more frazzled than it was after our impromptu morning spanking, and her hair was a mess.Sarah skittishly approached the desk. She extended her arms and proffered the mug to me."I'm sorry I took so long Master, but I couldn't find where you kept the filters ... and I ... well." She looked down...I took the mug. "What else kept you Sarah?"She clenched her eyes shut. "I masturbated."I sighed. "Where?"She gulped. "On the couch..." she said tentatively.I took a long draught from the mug. The coffee was hot ... and it tasted wonderful.I fixed my eyes upon my red headed slave. "Sarah, look at me."She slowly brought her spring green eyes up to look into mine. I stared at here for a long while ... she. I'm just bad with names at times." It's okay." He just stood there, looking lost and a little out of place."Um, may I ask why you said I was good?" Oh. That." He gestured to the small sign I'd been hanging above the shop door. "Charlene Delaney: Freelance Writer" it said. "I read your article in the Tribune last Sunday. Very articulate and informative. You're obviously good at what you do." Thank you." I felt my face turning red. Compliments tended to fluster me."Well, I have to be going now." He stuck out his hand and I shook it again. "I'll be seeing you around I hope." Sure." I watched him walk away and then turned my attention back to the sign.The next time I saw him, I was leaving the grocery store as he was coming in. I said "hi" and he asked how I'd been. Even though I was in a hurry, I took the time to watch him walk away, noticing the shape of his butt in the crisp jeans. It would fill my hands nicely."Arghhhhh!"Several people turned to look at me but I ignored them. What.
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They walked in silence back to the ship. Jack couldn’t enjoy the festival now. It was late, and her heart just wasn’t in it any longer. There had been a thrill of adventure to the whole debacle, and for a moment it had felt like it used to, but when Will had asked for them to kill him, all the excitement died and was replaced by a cold, knotted fear. She’d never heard that from him before. She’d seen him risk his life with a smile more times than she could count, but she never thought she would see the day where he would invite his own death without a fight. She’d tricked herself into thinking that Will was the same as he used to be. That he was just angry because of what she’d done, and that he’d get over it when he understood and go back to being the Will she remembered. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Will was different, and it was utterly her fault. She stalked up the Kestrel’s gangplank and down into the hold lost in her own thoughts. When she got to the doorway of her.

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