She had added wall-hangings, cloth carpets, small nineteenth-century prints, candlestick holders, and dark wood furniture to match the floors.The firs... thing I noticed was her cello. It was resting on a stand with the bow hanging behind it, in front of a little gas-log fireplace that she lit, in a living room that was hardly an antechamber. She went around the place lighting candles everywhere. I couldn't be sure—not yet—If she was making it romantic for me, or if she always kept it like that,. The remnants of her intense orgasm washed down.“Too bad Shobha can’t be fuck-buddy with Harish, she would totally enjoy that.” “But as a husband?”, she thought as she wiped herself with a towel. “If he fucked me well and good in a few hours, I bet he would have many fuck buddies.”“I think I should talk with Shobha’s father and call the wedding off.” She decided.Savita wore a saree to visit Shobha’s father. She wanted the best for Shobha and she decided Harish wasn’t a husband material. More

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