Christine just kept on driving after I had made her cum in her car while she was driving me home. But as the other story says, she wanted me to be her...slave for a few hours. You might remember Christine. Long legged aunt, who always wear skirts and nylons that just clings to her skin. So I sit back in the Mercedes’ warmed leather seats and I let her take charge. She’s driving, and I turn around a little, ogling her. Her breasts are pointing forward and, since she just came, her nipples are. Mahima places her left hand on her left boobs as she keeps looking at the pictures. She gets aroused and starts massaging her boobs with her eyes still stuck on her mobile phone. Her mouth gets wide open and her eyes look high as she starts moaning. She puts the phone aside and uses her both hands to massage her tits.She now closes her eyes and imagines Aryan is with her on her bed. Massaging her own tits, she imagines Aryan doing all that. With the image of Aryan all over her mind, she feels. Neither of us said a word; we didn’t have to. She started clenching her butt, squeezing my dick, and I got busy playing with her nipples and squeezing her tit through the thin material. The only sound was our increasingly rapid and noisy breathing.In no time we’d worked ourselves into a fever pitch. She pulled away from me and sat up to pull the T-shirt over her head. I took that opportunity to shed my boxers. Now it was skin to skin, my dick and her ass grinding together.Finally, she looked. All the hatred, the disgust, I felt for the man dwindled. He was gone. It was hard to loathe him any longer when memories of the gentler man he used to be rose in my mind.I remembered my time from my childhood when my mother still lived. He was warm then, loving. Something died in him with Mother. What filled him was cold ambition. It drove him to such terrible acts, twisted him long before he became that insectoid thing lying dead down the hill.I stumbled up to the Altar of Souls. I glanced.
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