I run my hands through her short, blonde spikey hair, and as I do, the photo of my wife on my desk catches my eye. You wouldn’t be smiling if you co...ld see this, I think spitefully to myself, which causes a brief surge of guilt to course through my veins.But as I feel my little French secretary reach inside with her fingers and touch my eager shaft, all guilt dissipates and I focus on the matter in hand, if you pardon the pun! Looking down she is smiling up and me and licks her lips in a. Jesa usne kha mene kiya. Wow kya boobs the uske mast lag rhe the. Mai unhe suck karne lga. Or wo mere sar par hath frene lgi.Wo mujhe apne boobs mai press karti ja rhi thi, mai wesa hi kar rha tha jesa mene porn movies mai dekha tha. Thodi der baad wo boli k uski choot suck kro, mene kbi nhi kiya tha to jese hi mai uski choot k paas gya mujhe ajib si smell aai, usne jhatke se mujhe apni choot ki taraf press kiya or mai use chatne lga, wo moan kr rhi thi aaaaaaa uuuummmmmm or jorrrrr seeee. Friday went on the same as any other day for Jessie. Her boss had a special project he requested just before she left for the weekend that took extra time to finish. Chad was due home today and she really didn't want to miss his call. By the time she had the work done, it was over an hour later than she normally left for the day. Jessie closed up her desk and walked to her car with a smile as she anticipated hearing from him.The only message on her machine was from her mother. Jessie returned. Micki was not my girlfriend, despite her efforts to convince me otherwise. I didn't call her in the evenings to talk, I didn't spend a lot of time with her at school, I didn't hold her hand at lunch, I didn't look for her on the sidelines during our games. She was a receptacle for me, a cum receptacle. She did the work for me so I didn't have to use my hand to jack off. Every Friday night, every Saturday night, and one time on a Sunday afternoon, we managed to meet somewhere to jump each.