He holds my gaze and there is the opportunity for me to comment or object, but that is the only thing he’s looking for, not acceptance but if I migh... object. He always said I would have the option to reject an experience so he wasn’t expecting me to verbalize an acceptance, just giving me the opportunity to reject. And … he didn’t expect me to even do that, not really.I returned my own nasty little smile. It was all the response he needed. It was the only response he expected. He smiled a smile. I was just wearing my regular jeans, kinda tight, I bought them with the faded wash and the holes ground in them at the knee and the thigh. My shirt was just a tight fitting tee-shirt, pink in color with some writing of some sort on it. Both the jeans and shirt fit snugly and my ass started to tighten up in the pants when I had to bend over to put my head on the hood of the car. The other three officers came up and they all looked at me and talked. I told him I'd cooperate with him if he. She was braless, wearing a short, tight tank top, a camisole, really, that showed to full effect her creamy white cleavage, and you could clearly see her nipples trying to burst through the thin fabric. You wanted to just bury your face between her fleshy mounds and suffocate in those breasts. The best part, though, were those two pencil-thin shoulder straps, the only things holding the top in place; they hinted at promises of delight just under the thin fabric. The shirt left a slim line of. There were tears rolling out of her eyes. One I started giving shots, her moans started to increase and was talking dirty. Sometimes in Sindhi, sometimes in Hindi. I was enjoying her Sindhi dirty talk even if I couldn’t understand it fully. She held my hairs and started to kiss me passionately while I was fucking her.She was saying, “Jor se chod mujhe, Rohan. Aaj mujhe jannat dikha de mere raja. Mujhe aise chod jaise aaj duniya ka aakhri din ho.” (Fuck me hard Rohan. Take me to heaven today..