Her height was almost 6 feet and had an immaculate skin. Both uncle and aunt used to love me like their own son, maybe because they had no children. E...en I used to consider aunt Radha was like my mother. I used to call her ‘Radha mom’ only. Radha mom always used to wear typical Indian Sari (Traditional Indian female attire). I had never seen her wearing any gaudy colors. She had waist length beautiful thick straight hair but due to age half of her hair became gray. Still that combination of jet. What her eyes beheld seconds ago was the image of flawlessness and ardor she had scrutinized over in occasional, yet commanding dreams since her childhood. These mental images faithfully emulated the very essence of her being, yet were tragically quelled as the confines of adulthood began to run its course. Society had dictated its heartless expectations upon her, yet it was within the furthermost places of her soul that truth would always maintain it’s undeniable custody. As her breath. I was so fired up by his manly love cries that I reached for my chest and unbuttoned my school uniform shirt, unclasped my bra and tweaked my throbbing nipple. “Aghhh!” I let off a series of muffled moans as I graduated to kneading my tit like pie dough. I was bent over his cock with my head bobbing up and down so fast my pigtails were all over the place. My ass was stuck right out in the air and as my short skirt flipped even higher I could hear a couple of whistled cat calls. My cunt lips. I was suddenly transfixed at what I saw in front of me. Jenny on the couch, legs open, fingers twisting her nipples and her breaths coming out of her mouth in short gasps, as Becky kneeled on the floor in front of her, eating her pussy like there was no tomorrow. Once again, my dick was getting hard. I knew that in a few minutes I’d have to join in. Becky reached up with her hands and assisted in the tweaking and pinching of Jennys nipples and that’s when I couldn’t hold back any longer. I.
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