Desi Girl Fingering Her Wet Pussy

Her fingers moved to the small pocket in the front of her waistcoat and in the dark I saw a flashes of light reflect off of a delicate jewelled collar. While it was no wider than my index finger and screamed elegance, there was no mistaking the fact that it was a sign of ownership. She smiled, fastening it around my neck. The gold links fitted snugly at the base of my throat, heavy with their dark stones and I felt my neck elongating with the urge to display it proudly. She took my hand again. Her heart was beating faster because of the tension and her chest is moving with the rhythm of her heart beat. But she is nowhere near unzipping her top. I asked “what you are doing. Are you going take the entire evening just to unzip your top?” She said her zip was stuck and she was not able to remove the zip. I went to her back, moved her hair to her front and placed my fingers on her neck slowly moving my fingers down to where her dress zip was stuck. Her body was shivering due to this. Bruno stripped and hunkered down on the floor with her. He reached between her legs and pulled her tampax out throwing it in the musty corner near her purse. His gaze lingered on her cunt, the night shadows made a clear look at it impossible, but the streetlight some yards away provided enough light to let him discern it was wet and glistening.Ginger unhurriedly lowered herself to the floor, spread her legs and wrapped them around him. In a naked embrace, they explored each other's body.Bruno. The gaping hole in that hypothesis had been Amanda Watkins; now I knew the truth, thanks to Jimmy I finally had the confirmation I needed to pin the sex button on my killer. Unfortunately, I couldn't use it as there was no supporting evidence of any kind. No real, physical evidence I could wave around and point to, and without a bona fide lead I couldn't take the investigation down that path. Frank Watkins was my problem. I was convinced Samantha knew something. Irene Watkins probably knew more.
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