After a bit more chatting, we planned to meet in a big coffee shop near the PC bang. She didn’t wear her usual outfit consisting of skinny jeans an... a tight shirt. For the first time, I saw her wearing a loose skirt and a flowery button-up. We didn’t get much done in the way of her learning English. Neither of us cared about doing a lesson, as it was just the reason to meet, and now we had to pretend this was dreadful for a while before we decided to leave and get food. “Ugh—so hard,” she said. Bhabi na apni kameez par hath rakh kar boli bol tujha apni izat pyare hai ya nahi agar toona wasa na keya jasa maina kaha to mai ghar main shor macha doon ge is na maree izat lootna ki koshish ki hai tujha ghar sa dheka mar kar bahir nikal deya jaa ga, becha mai devor g karta be to kaya bola acha bolo muha kaya karna hai, bhabi boli mujha chodna para ga, maina kaha agar mai asa na karoon to bhabi boli hamasha ka leya is ghar sa toon to gaya apa saman bandh la or bola to mai tare help kar datee. It made no difference she just thrusted and licked more frantically. Her mouth released my cock just long enough for her to squeal “come on then; fill my mouth” then her lips were back around my shaft and almost immediately my load came shooting up; she continued to suck and milked my cock for all it could give. She continued to suck well after she had drained me; then when she was sure she was getting no more withdrew. She looked up at me pushed out her tongue, which was covered in cum. You need a master. Dad couldn't quite give you what you needed could he?"She mutters something. "What?" I ask. "No. He couldn't be anything but an ass." I smile. "That's right. And yet you are submissive. You are lost without a master." I pause for a moment. " Get on your hands and knees!" I shout. She does, seemingly without thinking. "See? Now, who do you belong to?" I...I belong to you." She says. Her head lowered in defeat. "And who am I to you?" I demand. "My son. My son is my master,.