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They were directly on top of her clit and she felt thisall the way up her spine and down her legs. She clenchedher toes in excitement, and then opened her legs torelease his hand. He slipped his fingers under theelastic of her underwear and dragged it down to herknees, where it joined the torn legs of the sweatpants.He opened the towel around his waist and let it fall tothe floor, where he kicked it backwards and out of theway, and began to caress her ass with his hands in smoothrotating. "How are you feeling? Oh, you're cold! What was I thinking?" He said. "Let me fetch you something to wear."He went into his wardrobe and chose one of his old poet shirts, it would make a good nightie for her as it was soft. "Here, we'll put this on," he said and he gently helped her with it over her arms careful not to look at her breasts as she slipped it on."Thank you." She said.But then she became quite agitated and started crying."Where am I?"She felt panicky now and just wanted to jump off. He eased in to a close-up of the beauty and then panned back out as she kneeled at first to the stage. To his view, she was rather into everything. Eager to perform.He watched her lay to the stage and begin to tease herself. His gaze stared at her tight slit and near perfect body. She looked oriental but for that moment, he didn't care what she was. All he cared about were the thoughts and fantasies of running up onto the stage and stuffing his already throbbing cock into her. His mind snapped. This plan did work to some extent. Now I could look at her from open. And she also got a glance at me sweating every morning.This went for a few weeks. One day she caught me staring at her cleavage from my balcony. It was just a second, that I turned away when she saw me. She didn’t react much and went in. I just wanted to bury my face in the deepest hole. But the line had been crossed.From the next day, she started wearing a dupatta over her neck to cover her modesty. I got shattered. I knew.
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