Metropolitan Indian Great Whore
Paul stopped for a second “You really like that, don’t you?” “Oh YES! OH YES! It feels so good,” I whispered. He played with them for several minutes while I soared to heaven. “Just a minute,” I whispered as I sat up. “What’s wrong?” Paul asked. I didn’t answer; I just reached behind myself and unhooked my bra letting it fall off. It kind of hurt way up there,” I explained as I lay back again. Paul began playing with them again, but after a while I observed that one of his hands was wandering lowered and lower. Finally he encountered my jeans. He looked at me with a questioning look. In answer, I raised my hips. It took Paul about a mili-second to tug my jeans open and off! I was naked except for my panties, but Paul was completely clothed. I decided to begin to remedy that situation. I unbuttoned Paul’s shirt and soon had it lying on the floor beside my blouse. I saw his slender chest moving with his rapid breathing. I melted into his arms and felt my tiny. But he was the same Gary underneath it all, and as we took up our positions at the front of the dance floor, and the crowd began to push in around us, I realized that I was going to get to know a lot more about Gary's "underneath" than I'd expected. Stretch-jeans never left much to the imagination when you looked at them. They leave even less when their owner is wedged against your ass. The band came onstage, the crowd started moving, and Gary, to put itbluntly, started growing. At first I thought it was my imagination; that I was focusing so much on the bulge that was pressing against me that even the slightest motion set my mind in motion. But no, it was definitely bigger, firmer, warmer. And the crowd was so tight around us that he couldn't have moved away from me if he'd wanted to. I wondered what was going through his mind? It's easy to think that oncethe blood starts its pumping, a guy loses all sense of decorum and shame, and just lets his lust take control. But on a second.
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