I took the time to explore her boobs.“Oohhh”, she appreciated what I was doing. I fondled one while I sucked the other. At that instance, we were ...isturbed by a ringtone. It was not mine. She slid down from the bed and searched for her phone.“Shhh.. It’s my daughter. I have to take it”. She told me to be silent.“Hello, Yes, I have reached and checked in a hotel”, she answered the phone.How could I stay put? I walked behind her and hugged her. I fondled her boobs as my cock rubbed against her. So yea, there is a loser here in Vancouver who is raising my k** thinking its his.This is another of my real stories.A little about me first: I am an Arab muslim guy living in Vancouver, Canada. I have a fantasy for Indian Hindu/Sikh girls, because for them a muslim cock is like a forbidden fruit.I met Harveer Kaur (name changed for privacy) on a dating site. She was married but unhappy. She told me she wanted to leave her husband and move on, thats why she was on that site. Soon she got. He was having none of that so I pressed my bare tits against him and he forgot about the fact that I had lifted off his waist ever so slightly. He broke from the kiss to ask if I was wearing a bra. I smiled and shook my head. "YUMMY" was all I got out of him and his hands went for my 38D tits. The palms of his hands rubbing every so slightly over my rock hard nipples. "Damn baby you could cut glass with those things." I told you, you got me excited. What you didn't believe me?" Not like. Please! I…I…I didn’t mean it!”There was no reply from the stranger.Two hands gripped Erin’s honey blonde hair again. And pushed down. Forcing her head between Candace’s vinyl-booted legs. The hands held her there. Pushing her face into Candace’s sweet pussy. Erin couldn’t breathe. She struggled. Wildly. Kicking. Squirming. Squealing.Someone was stroking the backs of her legs. Stroking her stockings. Playing with her spike heels. Pulling her long hair. Groping her ass. Lifting the back of her.