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Main 8:30 ko uske society main pahoch gaya n usko call kiya usne kaha b wing main 5th floor pea a jao maine pahoch ke dorr bell bajayi usne darwaja khola mano jannat ka darwaja khula…Red colour ki sari main kamal lag rahi thi uspe cleavage n navel to dikh hi raha tha, usna kah ab andar bhi aao. Main andar aaya n usko flowers diye jo maione uske liye laya tha wo khush hui usko roses kafi pasand they usne kaha aur usne mujhe hug kiya wow kya mast moment tha….Uske soft booobs mere chest pe press hue but wo alag hui n usne door band kiya.Hum sofe pe baithe and baate karne lage uske sari ka pallu aar baar niche ho raha thausko pata tha main ghur raha hu idhar mera hathiyar bhi ab tent bana ja raha tha jise wo ghur rahi thi, thodi der baad humne dinner kiya n usne kaha tum bedroom main jao wahi baate karte hai main ati hu.Maine bedrom ka door open kiya to dekhta hi rah gaya usne mast sajaya hua tha main bed pe baith gaya n thodi der baad wo ayi n mere pas ake baith gayi maine usko hug kiya. Even the down lighter wall sconces spoke of wealth in their uniqueness and overly stated singularity. This girl had money, more than Jon could comprehend if the apartment was anything to go by.She showed him into the conservatory at the back, passing through a kitchen that looked un-used, passed a stainless steel refrigerator that was bigger than his wardrobe and into a rattan cane, winged chair with the immortally famous words, “make yourself at home while I slip into something more comfortable”.At thirty, Jon had had some very good Christmas’s, some really wonderful birthdays, but they had all come together in this very moment he thought. Brute came over, checked him out and then left him to find his sleeping basket, the size of a small dingy, he curled and soon was oblivious to the world.“Would you like a drink Jon?” Cindy’s voice wafted around the door pillar.“Yeah sure.” He shouted back to the disembodied voice.“Help yourself; Ice is in the fridge.”“Want one?” He got up to find.
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‘It’s just a hearty salad I’m afraid. Mrs Petrie accepted and that pleased Sierra. The visitor helped with the salad and set the table out on the deck, facing the great expanse of sand as the tide was now well out. ‘You’ve been here before, haven’t you?’ Sierra said. She’d observed that Mrs Petrie had known whatever she wanted was in a certain drawer or cupboard, not that there were many places for storage. It could have been intelligent guesswork of a dab kitchen-hand but it was the blue and white milk jug that did it. Mrs Petrie went unerringly to the bottom cupboard, second one in from the stove, and produced it. Her father loved it, her mother hated it and insisted to be kept from her sight. The flush told Sierra what she had figured out. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Petrie. I know daddy is a naughty boy – your secret is safe with me and I am almost happy about it.’ ‘Call me Mary,’ invited the blushing woman with a powerful build and sizeable breasts. ‘You father is a wonderful man.’.

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