"Why are you wearing my clothes?"With an uncharacteristically high heart the man replied in a scratchy, squeaky voice: "I am not Herbert. I am Helen. ...nd these are my clothes. Do you like them?"The man gracefully rose from the table. He loved sunny, shining mornings like this. His brawny, hairy arms bulged forth from a sleeveless, ankle-length floral print dress several sizes too small for his bulky frame. The man's feet, narrowly squeezed into silver-accented women's sandals, lithely danced. Ladies in East Delhi and around can mail me at privacy is respected. Read the story , am sure you will get wet.So coming back to the story. After I fucked my widow aunt and my Bhabhi, I was on look out for something fresh and hot. I generally prefer married ladies, as they are more experienced and understand the rules of privacy as well.There is an aunt in our neighborhood who is a common friend of my mom and the aunty whom I fucked. Her husband was into air force, however he had a bad habit. More

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