Indian mother and son romance

There was a honk outside and she hurried out. “Be back in a few hours!” she called as the door closed. Steve got up and grabbed a few tissues. The...cab pulled up at the hotel and Brit noticed Amber’s car. Good, she didn’t have to deal with the creepy clerk this time. She headed over to their normal room and found the door cracked, as always. She opened it and Amber was sitting inside, looking radiant as usual.“You owe me one, Steve threw a bitch fit,” Brit said, pulling the band out of her hair. Lips parting, tongues probing lightly then more insistently until we were both almost devouring each other. Hands sliding, searching, exploring as we held each other tightly. Chests, bellies, thighs pressed together yet moving, feeling the fabric of our clothing as encumbrances, barriers to our mutual need to touch, to feel skin against skin. Kitty wasn’t holding back (but then she had told me she wouldn’t)…she had merely been waiting for me to make the first move). I could taste the hunger in. More

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