Sexy Pakistani Fucking Her Boyfrend

As my fingers come into contact with the bare skin you push yourself further into your desk, scared that someone will notice the movements under your skirt. I firm my grip on you and pull your ass slowly forward on the chair, your skirt riding up as you move, the tops of your stockings showing. I prise your legs open, moving forward between them as they spread, you skirt riding higher still. It is light enough in my hiding place to see perfectly the purple gusset of your panties covering your gorgeous pussy, a dark spot forming as you become aroused. My hands move back to the outside of your thighs, pulling you further forward toward me, you perch on the very edge of the leather desk chair. I begin to kiss you, starting at your knee, my fingers probing the muscles in the back of your joint, slowly moving upwards. You feel my hot breath on your legs, on the inside of your thighs, toward the skin above your stockings. Your pussy is soaking; I can see that the material covering it is. I put the plans on his desk and leaning forward I pointed at a few key dates, chucking in some questions about progress. My blouse had fallen forward and there was no doubt that from where he was sitting he would have a clear view down onto my lace covered tits. I glanced backwards and forwards from the plan to him and was amused to see as he struggled to focus on the paper. Again however I saw his eyes flash back from gazing at my lace lingerie when he thought he could get away with it. I suddenly felt a flush of power, control and arousal at his attentions. I realised that for a year I had been monk-like in my devotions to work. I had neither slept with a man, nor even kissed one since my last fling at university. ‘James lets get some dinner.’ I proposed. ‘Yeah, I’m starving’. He concurred, picking the local takeaway menu out of his stacked in-tray. ‘No. I mean real dinner, you know, how about that French place near the tube?’. ‘What you mean, you and me, a restaurant?’ ‘Sure, why.
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