Indian Aunty 1297

Gooey tissues3. Off the charts4. Rocket fuelI didn't know if I was crazy, desperate, or desperately crazy. I didn't even know if I could say the words I knew I had to say."Danny, you like k**s, don't you?" Mom, we talked this over before. You know I'd like a little brother or sister. You know that. That's not the problem." I know that, but ... in the future do you think you'd want a c***d of your own?" I'd sure be a better dad than Dad. I'd treat them right." This time he looked up and his blue. He'd hold them for a second, considering, and then tell me to open my mouth. I'd do it, obediently, and he'd tell me to stick out my tongue. I would, and he'd put the soiled front of the panties against my tongue, and tell me to close my mouth. He'd take the other ends of the panties and tie them around the back of my head. I'd be able to taste my piss in the fabric of the panties, and it'd drive me wild.Then he'd remind me of what a bad little slut I'd been to wet them in the first place. His. Hubby was gay. Well, perhaps that's unfair. After all, when we were 'dating', the sex had been fantastic. I'm sure whichever female he'd added to his long line of conquests to build to his image of a 'lady's man', was still getting fantastic sex once or twice a week when they could schedule clandestine meetings. So hubby was more probably bi with a strong lean towards the male gender if the photos the PI my friend had hired at my request to gain evidence of my hubby's infidelities in case of. When Ian finally was allowed to enter, he was surprised at how sterile it seemed in there. No quiet music, no soft lighting like he usually liked when he helped deliver a baby. Garish lighting, lots of stainless steel and tubing and monitors. Lots of draping. Dinah’s face stuck out of the draping, her sleepy eyes blinking lazily as the monitors indicated she was having another contraction. ‘Hey.’ Ian leaned over her and kissed her forehead. ‘Sorry I’m late.’ Her brow furrowed up and her eyes.
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