While peeing out from the window, found the milkman. Stepping out and in the same scant attire she moved to the main door to collect the morning milk. Opening the door,she bent to pick up the milk and in the process her full breasts spilled out to form a delectable cleavage. From the corner of her eye she saw the milkman's bicycle parked in the compound and realized that he was still around and was perhaps waiting for her daily appearance. A full minute was spent in gathering the milk during which her creamy breasts spilled nearly 80 percent out of her thin, low-cut blouse. Giving this morning show was now a habit, both for her and the milkman, a strapping25 year old guy. She got her daily starting charge from this flash and even when someone other than the usual milkman delivered the milk, they learnt to stay until Nikita gathered her milk.Turning her back to the milkman, she started closing the door, giving him a lingering view of her ample, meaty bums and a rousing rear view of her trunk,especially since the petticoat came down to well below her hips and settled almost at the beginning of her bumms crack. Just before finally losing the door, she turned again towards the outside and offered another flash of her huge midriff, with its flaring curvature at the waist and the juicy, deep, inviting navel. This exercise was her morning tonic and a day was insipid without it.Nitika walked towards her sleeping hubby and studied his form as she neared him. He was two inch taller than her five feet six inches, slender in arm and chest but with a pot belly that grew out of endless hours of drinking, both at home and outside. He snored the moment his head hit the pillow everyday and kept snoring right until he was woken up. Nitika remembered their early days of marriage when she used to wake him up by snuggling up to him and nibbling his ears lightly while her fingers danced around his placid manhood. He would stir in those days and wait until she would stroke him to semi erection. Then suddenly, without warning he would grab her by the waist and turn her around to make her lie belly up on the bed. Using his left hand to drag her saree above her smooth, hot thighs, he would guide his half ready **** into her already steaming *****. A few gallant strokes would be attempted, following which Nitika had to lead his tool into her eager love nest whenever it slipped out. About 60 seconds of valiant lovemaking would ensue after which he would leak out a measly amount of ***** into her womb, which would just about suffice to moisten her just wettening ****. With an irritated grunt he would simply roll off her and rush into the bathroom without even looking back. if he did, then he would have seen the writhing, frustrated body of his lovely wife, legs spread, breathing heavily and thighs twitching in rising intensity.
The sight of a writhing semi nude Nitika, spread out lewdly on the bed, fingering herself to an ****** would have been the ultimate erotic sight for any peeping tom but for the sexy wife herself it was a daily torture. And she was forced to go through this torture on a daily basis, at times with frenzied regularity and with the greatest ever regularity in the last few months.
In the last few years here had been hardly any inspired bouts of love making, which for her lusty body was a deprivation surpassing all else if Nitika had to ever choose between her daily bread and a daily ****, she would go straight for the latter. Today, grimacing in resignation, she shook her husband Desh alive. With the usual morning grunt and without the slightest hint of a promising early erection, he hopped out of bed and strolled into the bathroom, not bothering to even wish his beautiful wife. Minutes after they all left, Nitika rushed into the bedroom and threw herself on to the bed, tearing her clothes off her heated body on the way. She unstrung her petticoat and tore the blouse off her bursting breasts as her lust aroused body flopped onto the soft bed. Both hands covered her full breasts, the palms kneading roughly and the fingers pulling at the now sharp tips. Her legs thrashed about as she literally crushed her full boobs like a Nympho in heat. Her entire body felt like it was on fire and she thought she would explode if it was not extinguished. Both her hands dropped quickly to her ***** mound and she worked her fingers in and out of that rich and fleshy zone, causing her thighs to spread, close and spread in a mind boggling sequence of abandonment. She gave herself in totally to the demands of her lush, neglected body. Her wasted voluptuousness surged with renewed hope everytime she subjected herself to this burst of self satisfaction. She mewled and moaned as her fingers delved and probed into her soaked *****, striking a frenzied rhythm in tune with her wildly aroused brain. The passionate start rose to a crescendo where she heaved and thrust her full hips up and down on the bed, as her fingers stroked her horny body to a new height of ecstasy. She felt the tide rise deep within her loins and it only drove her fingers deeper and harder into that steaming **** working on it like there was no tomorrow. The tide reached its peak and let loose a bursting flood, washing her loins all over, making her fingers reach furious speeds until the collapse began, first in her loins, then in her
fingers and finally in her golden, fleshy inner thighs. With receding passion, she slowly regained normal breathing, but continued to lie naked on the bed, hands on the lower abdomen, feet still apart in a lewd reminder of her just concluded dynamite act. She was wet with sweat and wet with her juices. The whole bedsheet was drenched and she silently decided that
she would change it later
The sight of a writhing semi nude Nitika, spread out lewdly on the bed, fingering herself to an ****** would have been the ultimate erotic sight for any peeping tom but for the sexy wife herself it was a daily torture. And she was forced to go through this torture on a daily basis, at times with frenzied regularity and with the greatest ever regularity in the last few months.
In the last few years here had been hardly any inspired bouts of love making, which for her lusty body was a deprivation surpassing all else if Nitika had to ever choose between her daily bread and a daily ****, she would go straight for the latter. Today, grimacing in resignation, she shook her husband Desh alive. With the usual morning grunt and without the slightest hint of a promising early erection, he hopped out of bed and strolled into the bathroom, not bothering to even wish his beautiful wife. Minutes after they all left, Nitika rushed into the bedroom and threw herself on to the bed, tearing her clothes off her heated body on the way. She unstrung her petticoat and tore the blouse off her bursting breasts as her lust aroused body flopped onto the soft bed. Both hands covered her full breasts, the palms kneading roughly and the fingers pulling at the now sharp tips. Her legs thrashed about as she literally crushed her full boobs like a Nympho in heat. Her entire body felt like it was on fire and she thought she would explode if it was not extinguished. Both her hands dropped quickly to her ***** mound and she worked her fingers in and out of that rich and fleshy zone, causing her thighs to spread, close and spread in a mind boggling sequence of abandonment. She gave herself in totally to the demands of her lush, neglected body. Her wasted voluptuousness surged with renewed hope everytime she subjected herself to this burst of self satisfaction. She mewled and moaned as her fingers delved and probed into her soaked *****, striking a frenzied rhythm in tune with her wildly aroused brain. The passionate start rose to a crescendo where she heaved and thrust her full hips up and down on the bed, as her fingers stroked her horny body to a new height of ecstasy. She felt the tide rise deep within her loins and it only drove her fingers deeper and harder into that steaming **** working on it like there was no tomorrow. The tide reached its peak and let loose a bursting flood, washing her loins all over, making her fingers reach furious speeds until the collapse began, first in her loins, then in her
fingers and finally in her golden, fleshy inner thighs. With receding passion, she slowly regained normal breathing, but continued to lie naked on the bed, hands on the lower abdomen, feet still apart in a lewd reminder of her just concluded dynamite act. She was wet with sweat and wet with her juices. The whole bedsheet was drenched and she silently decided that
she would change it later
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