Now something else. In her mouth. Something big. And getting bigger. Growing. Larger. Thicker. Harder. Filling her mouth. And her throat. Stroking. An... stroking. And stroking. In and out. In and out. In and out. Then something hot. And sticky. All over her red lips. Filling her mouth and throat. She coughed. She squirmed. She tried to talk.“Ohhhhh! Oh mmm-my God! Nnnn-no! Please! No! It was Candace’s idea! And Donald! Cuh-Cuh-Donald! They talked me into it! I…I…I didn’t want to! Puh-lease!. I let her in & made her comfortable by offering her seat & a glass of water. She felt relaxed but the pain was still visible on her face. Then I told her what is wrong with her, she was hesitant but then told that; she was playing holi when someone came from behind & groped her, pressed her boobs mercilessly and before she can react or shout, he put his hand inside her kurti and poured some color over her boobs & nipples. I asked whether she is having due to boob pressing to which she replied. I slowly started stroking the underside with my middle finger, then gently carressed the knob, leaving only one thing to do.I started to recall an evening some years ago in a London tranny club called the Philbeach Hotel in Earl's Court, where Monday was the evening when gurls could dress and be themselves, discreetly and safely, otherwise it was a gay venue.At the end of the night, there was a party in one room, which I went to along with Michelle, a girl that I had real affection for and had. It wasn’t. Soon his ears told him his bedsprings were protesting as his mind’s-eye flashed the images. As he envisioned the things happening to his wife, his hand reached into his soft, frilly robe, and pulled out his thin pecker, and began to tug on it.His ears told the story of his wife on her back, her legs widely opened and first the moans of her lover, some young black guy, licking her nectar from her honey pot. Then he could hear her mumble something, followed by a loud mew. That mew grew.