"What would we do, just tell them to ignore the video camera sitting here on a tripod?" I ask, finishing my umpteenth margarita."No," she says, seriou...ly. "We could put a wireless camera on the dresser and they'd never even notice it," she says, matter-of-factly. "We'll do it next time," she declares. "You can invite them to use your apartment again next week". I can't believe what I'm hearing. She wants to video her son having sex with his girlfriend. And I thought I was perverted!"Where are. He lifted her up a bit to kiss her neck a little more before he asked her if she could kiss his. She kissed his forehead first before she did so. His arms held her ass at this time.He put his hands in and complimented that she had smooth skin before he fingered her asshole. He started kissing her again when he moved his hand down to finger her vagina. No matter what, Ashley kept running her fingers through Dillon’s hair repeatedly. He pulled her pants down and put her above his head and began. The dark glass partition separating us from the driver is raised. ‘Whose clit is it?’ he asks. We both know it is a rhetorical question. ‘Yours.’ ‘Keep touching it, but don’t come.’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘A place I know in the city.’ ‘And what is going to happen?’ ‘Do you dance?’ ‘Dance?’ ‘Yes. Dance. You know what dancing is. Waltz. Tango. Fox trot. Rock and Roll.’ ‘No. Not much.’ ‘That’s what I expected. Too studious to go to the prom.’ ‘I went to the prom.’ ‘That makes one of us. Anyway. From Assam we came on transfer to Ahmadabad. There we stayed for five years. In these years I lost my father and mother. I was really lonely in all respects. My husband would only bring house hold goods, go to office and sleep. Even after eight years of marriage I was a virgin. I was feeling my life is a waste. I wanted to become a mother, which I felt was my birth right as a woman, but what to do? There was no way out.Then we came to Mumbai on transfer. Here we go a Company accommodation at.