And went to bazaar again, this time with undies, and she again bent over and got rubbed by at least ten guys at different intervals and I was watchin... this from a corner yes like a spy, and felt kill those asshole or kick my wife. There was a guy who actually ripped out the a small in her kurta and inserted her penis. At this time I just came to my wife by pushing the crowd hard and said shall we go now. She was not able to speak the guys was ejaculating, and was spilling over due to sudden. The other was tugged and the same feeling of cold metal pressed against me. The coldness was not too bad a feeling, but the tightness of the metal gripping my nipple caused me to arch my back and gasp. I became accustomed to the feeling. Warm fingertips separated my pussy lips. Something told and metallic pressed against my tender clit. It felt like it was being squeezed or clamped. I writhed, trying to move away from it. “Please stop Lorris. Please don’t do this any more. You’re hurting me. I. They realized that they were working it out in their own special way, meanwhile getting wetter, and wetter. They stopped their play to take time to dry each other off. His hands worked their way from her neck to her beautiful round breasts and nipples, which became achingly erect by his touch. He lovingly rubbed his towel across her slightly hidden tattoo, almost tracing it line, by colorful line. He was in a trance and not noticing her eyes looking deep into his face, her lips opening to. Fuck. I was about to do something that was utterly alien to me, but a total turnon at the same time. I walked into the cinema. It was dark (no shit, Sherlock!) but in the flickering light I could see some men teasing each other. On the screen was some hardcore man on man action...cocksucking, arse fucking, cumshots. I was stiff as a rod of iron watching it, confused at the same time. “I'm not fucking gay!” I thought. But watching the action on the screen was making me harder and harder. I.