Only wanting to get rid of this piece of red fabric which served her bra

only wanting to get rid of this piece of red fabric which served her bra

The living room, very well lit – contrasting with the darkness that had accompanied me to my home – gave it a certain innocent charm, a beauty that I found only in those of the elderly, did not have the air disturbed by any development. Between that moment and the moment I was going to think he was moving to another room, the neighbor invited me to sit down and tell me he was going to get his wife, and at that moment everything seemed like Naturally agreed when I remained standing in the middle of the room where a slight perfume floated when, on the floor, behind me, were heard the footsteps of a gentleman accompanied by those of a pair of clappers, probably those of his wife.

I did not immediately understand what I was, what scene – perhaps the most unexpected of my life – I lived, when I was, while continuing to see, without looking, what adorned the living room , to return for, on the neighboring couple, laid eyes. My brain sent to my mind the idea that everything was normal, that I was still waiting for this piece of furniture to move, while my eyes scanned the neighbor’s wife, and it took me a few seconds to realize, thanks to the words that had just been pronounced by her husband, as if they had been the catalyst for a new element, totally sudden and unimaginable, that my brain treated in the second, immediately updating my mind by sending him the latest information as soon as the last syllable escaped from my neighbor’s mouth.

– I would like you to fuck my wife. He had said.
His well-coiffed hair, which came down to his shoulders, overflowed slightly on his shoulder blades and the base of his neck, were blond, and he looked great with his dark blue eyes, seeming in fact black with the strong light of the room . Her eyebrows and nose were fine, clinging perfectly to her silky face, as if they had been made only for that face, and wearing a clear lipstick mingling with the natural color of her shiny lips on which she had probably ironed her tongue, or that of her husband (which did not slow down my nascent desire). She had a dress – with flower-like patterns as her motif, but with a particularly long stalk running around her, as if she wanted to hug him – which reached her over her knees.

Her calves, a little “wrapped” putting it all the same well value, used, as with all human beings, bases her thighs that I guessed superb and, as she was an ounce profile, her buttocks bulging, with her dress, drawing her flat back, formed a sudden curve, seductive and regular, with a cloth belt overlaid on her garment.

I was not sure I had heard well and apologized stupidly, saying he did not understand. His wife was coming towards me, and like her husband, doing the same, but on the side, as if both of them wanted to prevent me from going away by taking all the space of the room, I recoiled slowly so to find myself, without my knowing it, near the sofa. She was in front of me, her smile, not the one that a woman in love addresses to the one she loves, was full of this sensual bestiality. He repeated what he had said a few seconds ago but in another vocabulary, telling me that he would like to even “make love” to his wife. The latter, as he told me these words as if he were putting them in my ear, put his hands on his shoulders and took off his dress on both sides, which slipped to his hips – the fabric seeming to take advantage of this moment to caressed it entirely.
Her breasts, which I had – not strangely, but simply because the scene had been faster than that of the understanding of my brain – forgotten, appeared to me particularly fleshy, only wanting to get rid of this piece of red fabric which served her bra, and making them terribly sexy, just like my sex that I began to feel cramped in my boxer.

While the husband took full sandstone on a solitary chair located near a corner of the room, his wife pushed me tenderly (the tip of each of his ten fingers of his hands seeming so light met my chest) to m to sit at the end of the sofa whose color I do not yet know; and even if it was absolutely necessary to make me say it I will qualify this furniture of red so much the color of its bra appeared to me to be that of all that surrounded us.
She had one knee on the couch (the shinbone on the cold leather) and the other leg still on the floor, her hands, at the level of my shoulders, rubbed the same material as her tibia flattened. His chest still trapped in front of my face, my eyes fell between her breasts had not made me see the husband.

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