The Eyes Of Pure Beauty From Asia

I headed in that direction. She was still muttering at herself as we followed the sidewalk to my place, but looked up and asked, ‘Where are we goin...?’ ‘I am escorting you to dinner and helping you vent your anger at men.’ She didn’t smile, and I didn’t smile back. ‘Fuck.’ I smiled this time. The universal epithet. Useful in many situations. Her face was pink and eyes teary. I led her up my steps and opened the door. ‘This isn’t a restaurant.’ ‘You are not fit for public consumption. Sit on. “No,” I replied, “that’s the only one; I’ll have a glass of water in a minute.”She sipped from her glass and then offered it to me, “We will share,” she said. I took the glass, which had a slight smear of her lipstick, and drank some before handing it back. There was something somehow slightly intimate in this simple exchange, a touch of the hand, a shared shy smile; we were getting close to expressing our attraction physically. Maryam placed the glass on a table in front of her and I sat next. She had returned and was standing over us. I glanced up and from this angle found myself looking straight up into her engorged pussy. Her inner lips were distended and swollen and her erect clit was peeking out. She was holding a couple of condoms in her hand. We were all careful and responsible swingers. Bret and Denise had been cleared with us, as we had with them, for unprotected sex. But now we had a fresh, unknown penis in our midst. A surge of lust swept through me with the realization. Well this pasted weekend ( Dec 16 and 17 ) I was in my shop working on my Jeep. I had recently put a Votec Chevrolet engine in it and I was finishing up the hundreds of little things to finish it. My shop has central heat and air so it didn't matter that it was fourty two degrees and raining outside. My wife had come out to set and talk to me while I work. She was wearing a Christmas sweater and a pair of thin black leggings. She was setting on one of the ( bench racing ) stools with her legs.
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