Instead of her trademark cut-off shorts and tight t-shirt, she wore a cute, very short mini-skirt and a button-down, untucked white cotton shirt with ...he top three buttons unfastened and a good deal of her all-natural 36D-cup cleavage showing. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she sported bangs, something that gave her a schoolgirl look.“I’m ready,” Bailey declared as she put on her seatbelt.“For what?” I asked. I was totally confused.“To learn to play poker,” Bailey. The white husband sat up and removed the white wife's nightgown. Instead of putting on a condom however, the white husband laid back down halfway up his wife's body and began kissing her tits. Slowly the white husband lowered his kissing down her abdomen until he reached her trimmed bush.The white wife was now terrified, but was afraid if she denied her husband that he would be suspicious. The white husband slid further down and forced his wife's thighs apart. The scent released between her. She turned to face me and throught heavy sobbing told me she was ashamed of herself and that she was a dirty slut. I started to cry telling her that she wasn't a slut but a fantastic mother. She asked if I was ashamed of her and horrified by her behaviour to which I told her I wasn't and that I expected most adults looked at the same sort of thing. My coaxing seemed to calm her and she slowly turned over onto her back and said she would try to explain what she had done, I told her she didn't. She opened the door and welcomed me with a big smile. I gave a handshake and both our hands were warm. I held her hand for a little longer and she did the same. Her c***d was one year old and she was wearing nighty and I could see her boobs when she bent to pick up the c***d. Radhika gave me coffee. We chatted for half hour and I did not get courage to move beyond the handshake and told her I have to go. She told me to come again.This time I got courage and went to her apartment next day around.
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