Gud tipechhish, gude chopat chopat kore chumu diyechhish. Sab aami ter peyechhi. Khub aaram peyechhi, kintu tui lajja pabi bole ghumer bhan korechhi. ...Aarek din raate tui aamake pichhon theke jariye aamar pachha kole niye onek khon samne-pichhone jhaki diyechhish. Aamar shaya tor simens a bhore giyechhe. Aamar o khub maja o aaram legechhe.” “majhe majhe aami dupure aami nije ichhe kore shudhu shaya pore shuye ghumai ebong shaya komorer upare uthiye raakhi, jate tui gud aar buk dekhte parish.”. It didn't fit. "It's the wrong damn key. It goes to something else." he texted her. Her only reply was a picture of the lone key in the palm of her hand and in the background, the carpeted floor of a hotel room. He began to drip. Slowly at first, then more and more as minutes passed into an hour he could feel the familiar sensation of a steady stream of pre-cum flowing from his imprisoned clitty and dripping onto his thighs. He was in a whirlwind of sexy. His wife now his mistress, his still. He was moving slowly and I could feel him sliding inside against theridges inside of my pussy. He was stretching and filling me and I wasmewling and moaning in pleasure because I was so happy that my cunt wasfull again and when I felt him cum in me all I could do was just screamat how good it felt." But it wasn't over. Somehow suddenly, no sooner than I had felt thathappen when everything changed and I felt myself getting fucked again ina different way. How I was getting fucked completely. She was about five foot six, solidly built and quite pretty, her clinging black and white dress accentuating her curves. Dignified, womanly and elegant in her way. As she approached I stood up and we had a friendly hug. It is not unknown in those circumstances for people to shake hands, and although that may look perfectly normal to the other people around, I find it a bit strange.We sat down and she declined my offer of a drink, but had a sip of my beer.“Shall we go upstairs?” I asked quietly,.