I was so keyed up, but tired.With the help of John, I was able to get back on the bed. John lowered himself to lie next to me. He almost made a mistak...e by putting an arm around me and pinching one of my very sensitive nipples.“Oh, fuck! No, John. Not now! I couldn’t take another orgasm right now.”John got up after a few minutes and I asked him to bring me a glass of wine. I heard the door open and close. You were home. My first instinct was to jump up and cover myself, but then I thought, I. I had a room vacant on the terrace (a barsaati), which the servant could use. However there was only one bathroom. So I would have to share it with the servant. I hated the idea but I dreaded the thought of cooking and cleaning all by myself, so I agreed. I was lying on the couch enjoying the pleasant view from the window of the lush mountain peaks and the fresh breeze when there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and saw an old man in his late fifties, thin and bony with a hunch. He. " I said, stilled pissed from her earlier performance."Of course he doesn't. He was just being nice." she replied.I couldn't let it go, and when I should have shut up and let things rest, I didn't and continued,"Let's be honest. He just wants to fuck you and for all I know, you want him to. The way you were rubbing yourself on his knee tonight like some whore..." And what if I did?" she shouted back at me. "I sometimes think that's what you want to happen. I saw the way it was turning you on,. That’s fucking spectacular.”A thrilling sensation overtook her at his commendation. Damn—why did this guy’s sexual approval mean so much to her? The thought was wiped from her mind as she reached orgasm, screaming. She double-clutched him—her hand on his shoulder and her cunt on his shaft—as joy burst outward from her clit and stormed through her whole body like she was changing on a chemical level.Every prim pretension she’d assumed as Mrs Grant Chesterfield was burned away in the heat of.