Sajitha aunty was wearing a red saree and there was sindoor on her forehead. She was around her 40s, fair and average-built. She was shorter than me. ... gave her a hug. Hugs were not a thing back in our village. But I just hugged her hoping she won’t mind. She didn’t hug me back though. She asked me how I was and thanked me for coming and stuff like that, which I didn’t pay attention to.Aunty then got into my car and we drove to my place. I had already prepared dinner for her. So we sat there. I shifted to an apartment owned by dad’s friend who was now living in US. His apartment was lying empty from last couple of years though was fully furnished. All I had to do was move in with my suitcase. The apartment was in the sub-urbs and far from where my office was but than you don’t get such nice apartments in Mumbai even at double my salary and I had it for free. The burden of such a place is to keep it tidy and decided to keep a maid to keep it clean and wash my clothes. I requested. Upon Mombassa’s direction, four hands then gently lifted Darla by the back of her knees, and her armpits, while the rest of her body hung limply, as she was carried to what was felt to be a narrow bench covered with a thick blanket. The men carefully laid Darla on her back on the narrow bench, causing her legs to dangle to either side, completely exposing her dripping pussy. As Darla laid on the bench, she opened her eyes to the fog of the dimly lit room and watched as male shadows then formed. He can’t do this, can’t leave me like this on his bed. I grab my dick, push it down. “It feels good, though. Admit it.” “We’ll go to hell.” “We’re both gay,” I tell him. “We’re already going to hell.” He swallows a lump in his throat. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to give in to me.” I take his hand in mine, pulling myself to my feet. I grab his shoulders and we spin, and back against his bed he falls when I push at him. “I want to,” I whisper confidently and kneel down before him..
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