One day, we had an especially intense rutting session in which I banged into Carla repeatedly from behind as she backed up against me, on the bed, on all fours. It was a session that left us drenched with sweat, our bodies drained of energy and in much need of re-energizing.Carla slipped into one of my T-shirts. On her cute figure, it came down just past her butt and fit her like a ridiculously short mini-skirt. She made a quick bathroom jaunt to freshen up, then I did the same, but I didn't bother to put anything on when I went into the hallway."Tony!" Carla hissed. "Your mother might be around!" She's home, alright. I think she's up front, watching TV." But what if she comes down the hall?"I shrugged, then grabbed my penis (still thick and long from our recent session) close to the balls and wagged it up and down a few times. "Hi, Mommy," I said then I winked at Carla. She was laughing her head off as I headed to the bathroom. Once there, I used it, cleaned myself up a bit, then -. I looked at him and flushed as his eyes drilled into me. He turned down a cramped alley between a rows of huts. It was reasonably clean, but very noisy. The lane ended in a gutter running hard by a bramble. He turned the corner and led me to a small hut with a sloping tin roof and a rickety wooden door with a padlock. Kumar unlocked the door and pushed it open. It was very spare, almost Spartan. One chair, a little table, a kerosene stove in a corner, a few pots and pans on two wooden shelves. A cheap calendar on the wall by a small mirror. Clothes hung on a line, a tin chest. A hemp bed with a thin pillow and sheet and sagging mattress. A cheap novel lay on the floor by the bed.“Well,” he said. “That’s it. Home. My mansion. I looked around. “It’s. It’s very nice. Kumar looked at me and I went very still. Time stopped and the sounds of the city faded. He came closer. And closer. And closer. Took my face in his hands. His head bent. I tilted. My lips parted. I could feel his breath on.
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