My Indian Desi Wife mp4

” He snarled. He seized my arms and pinned them behind me and then with his free hand in spite of my kicking and squirming tugged at my pants. “Stop it!” I shouted. He’d pulled my pants of before as a prank when I was out in the yard playing with him and some of my friends because I messed up a play during a football game. It left me naked from the waist down while he ran in side with my shorts. It didn’t seem as if though that leaving me half naked without anyone to gawk and make fun of me was worth the struggle but there he was working my pants and underwear together to my ankles. In no time my ass was exposed. I felt weak. I felt vulnerable and began to cry but I didn’t stop fighting. He smacked my ass. He smacked my ass cheeks hard so hard it sent stung and tingled long after he stopped. “You like that don’t you?” He said when I stopped crying though I stopped crying only because I was out of tears and could only whimper. He took this as acceptance and got off me. I thought he was. My husband died young and wealthy and well insured, and his fortune was more than enough to support my beautiful downtown penthouse, my lavish wardrobe, and my strapping son, Richard, for several lifetimes. I'd give it all away to have him back though. I miss him. It was rainy out, so today would be an indoor day. I bound my boobs up in a modest, functional blue bra, threw on some boy-short panties, and slacks and a sweater that did nothing to conceal my mind-bending curves. As I cooked eggs and stirred batter for breakfast I thought of the previous weekend, when Richard had some friends over. I had to pull my son off of a boy at one point, struggling to somehow contain his fury and rage as he screamed, “YOU TAKE IT BACK! YOU TAKE THAT FUCKING BACK!” His poor victim wouldn't have stood a chance of course... Richard somehow took everything I fed him and converted it into lean, strong muscle that layered his body like armor, well defined.
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