She did not want to make small talk with anyone. Experience dictated that most people doing laundry this late at night were not the type she wanted to... engage in conversation. She loaded the largest washer there with the bedding and settled in with a magazine. There was a TV on, too loud since it was set for the daytime, when the place was constantly humming with the sound of numerous machines running. The TV ran 24 hours a day, mounted high on the wall so that patrons could not touch it.. In two minutes she surrendered. Her kamiz and salwar were on the floor of the kitchen and this nasty boy was sucking hungrily at her rosy nipples, while his hands were massaging her big breasts.She had never been treated her like that. Her husband was the only man to lay hand on her and he was so gentle, not like this bull ravishing her. Here she was a pure, innocent widow, totally naked with her son’s friend, being molested and sexually used in her own kitchen.Raghu was an expert in dealing. She would pull the material together under her breasts, pushing up and putting them on display, then suddenly cover them up with one hand, opening the bottom part to show off her freshly waxed pussy. Then she would shift the material around and bare only her shoulders and cleavage. She knew she was driving me crazy and began strolling towards the spot where I was standing. "Don't move," she breathed more than said aloud. "Just look." She circled me arranging and rearranging the dress as she. This was a water based gel. She squeezed a little onto a finger, having me feel the consistency and slipperiness. She spent a moment looking at my hands, pulling out a clipper and trimming my nails slightly and filing away a few rough spots, explaining as she did the problems that could result from sharp corners and edges.Becky got on her hands and knees with her ass facing me, talking me through spreading some lube around her hole then lubing one finger and slowly pressing that finger into.