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The prevalent impressions were dampness and dimness. The whole thing was like a system of moldy boxes. Water was dripping from the ceiling, it was running down the walls, it was accumulating in puddles on the floor. Everything was slippery, each section reeked a bit differently and none of them were pleasant. Dripping or burbling sounds were everywhere, sometimes multiplied by echoes.I was afraid. I always was in moments like this. The twitching got worse; sweat popped out on my forehead. Dimly lit corridors stretched on both sides. Both dark holes seemed to stare me down, waiting to unleash their hidden horrors on me. I could hear water dripping somewhere. The roof was cracking. There was no movement anywhere. Time seemed to stop.I stared into both directions, my eyes wide open in the vain hope of seeing anything that might help me with my decision. I needed to calm down, be cool, relaxed, bring my twitching eye under control. I took a few deep breaths.“Calm down,” I whispered to. He held me tightly with both arms around my waist. He spent a moment looking at my near nakedness in the mirror. My bra was just a strip of yellow silk underneath my breasts, my pearl choker was at my throat, the Nizam’s precious necklace was around my neck and my high heels were on my feet. My kumkum and bangles – the signs of my married state – brought to mind my husband who would soon be cuckolded. My bangles clinked as I struggled, but I could not deny that the thought of adulterous sex was exciting.My bush was trimmed to a neat line and my thick, nearly black pussy lips peeped through. Putting one hand up so that my full breasts were tight against his left forearm, he ran the fingers of his right hand along my bush. His fingers worked with incredible subtlety, so his touch grew more insistent very gradually. I did not even realize when his light probes changed to firm manipulations.My panting turned to gasping as his fingers found my clit, gently at first and then with.
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