Didi —– tum koi antar yami ho kya? Sab cheez mano tumhe pehle hi pata hoti hai.Dhobi ne dudhwale ka shukriya kiya manme —– chalo ab kurta utar....Didi —– kyun? Tum to sirf masterbate dekhoge kaha tha.Dhobi —– are dikhane me tum ghis jaogi kya. Maine tumhe chudwane ko nahi kaha. Jo kaha nahi kiya to mai chala’Didi —– thik hai par mai bra nahi utarungi.Bolke didi ne apne kurte ko sar se upar kar nikal fenka. Ab wo sirf ek bra me dhobi ke samne padi thi. Dhobi didi ke bra me fase chuchio ko acche se. "Ready sweety?" I ask as I lean back, my hand still lightly caressing her pussy."More than ready, as you can tell," she quips, her hand going to mine and rubbing it along her slit, "Now let's go have some fun!"I smiled back at her and went around to the other side and off we went. It was about a 40 minute drive into SE DC where the club is. Down the toll road to 495 then south to 395 and north into DC.Of course, on a ride that long, things were bound to happen. "So are you looking forward to. Pherson was the best thing that ever happened to me and I couldn't let him go, no matter what. I had been so lonely in America, like a criminal in solitary confinement, I had no one to talk to. The constant social anxiety of alienation and crazed mass media of hyper sexual stimulation around me had made me a little schizophrenic. I had become both scared of intimacy and yet infinitely more attracted to it. Everyone around me had seemed infinitely out of touch and yet ever so close, all the. The first thing out of the bag was a garter belt, black and lacy. Leaning forward, she buckled it around her waist. Next, she pulled a pair of long, sheer stockings from the bag. These went on next, and Debby took a nice long time stretching them and smoothing them on her legs. Strap-on high heels followed, which if not quite as high as last night’s, were still very nice.Next, she pulled a denim jacket out of the bag and placed it in her lap. Looking around at the traffic, Debby quickly peeled.