After she repeats the entire process on my other arm, she trails her fingertips down my forearm—elbow to hand. I am stunned at the intimacy. My hand...! Oh, stop. It’s too much. I’m whimpering inside, maybe outside, too. She makes tiny circles in my palms. Her fingers stroke mine, one at a time—base to tip—pulling me away from my self. Stop! No. No, don’t. Don’t stop—ever. I’ve never been touched in this way. I’m exposed. It’s frightening—and liberating. I ache when I think of all the beauty I’ve. I became totally numb. Speaking about Prasad’s mother and my mother used to say that she loved me very much in my childhood and always gave me every thing that I asked. She is an ordinary housewife age 46, not milky white like my mom but brown skin. Not so well structured body but tempting, she was from a village family, not highly educated. Interesting features round lips, very soft baby smooth type skin, smiling face with a dimple on her cheek, very thick long black hair (long as it touches. Over the next few weeks Phil would give me a lift to work a couple of days a week. I would dress for the ride home and he would drive into some woods and he would strip me down just to my suspender belt stockings and heals and have me over the front of the car. He would tell me how the others had enjoyed the pics of me and the stories he was telling them off how eager I was and how the thought of being caught heightened my orgasms. I wasn't sure if what he was saying was true or just to make me. The hold time Tom was telling me how hot I was and calling me, his bitch. I was just about there. I found the right spot and push back. His head was almost in, I push out and back and pop the head went in. It hurt only for a minute; after I made a sigh Tom pushed his cock slowly all the way in. Tom began to fuck me with slow passionate movements. I wanted him to fuck me harder. But he said no, if I wanted it hard that I would have to do it myself. So I did, I moved my ass, made that cock dance.