Incest Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

 
They slid down her arms, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin of her inner elbows, sending shivers of pure sensation down her spine.
 
They moved to her back, his hands tracing the delicate curve of her spine, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh, kneading, caressing, possessing.
 
He was mapping her body, learning her every curve, every hollow, every sensitive spot that made her gasp and writhe beneath him.
 
His hands then moved to her breasts, his touch growing bolder, more possessive.
 
He cupped them, his palms fitting perfectly against their soft, firm weight, his thumbs brushing against the taut, aching peaks of her nipples.
 
Neetu cried out into his mouth, her back arching instinctively, pushing her breasts deeper into his hands, a silent, desperate plea for more.
 
He obliged, his fingers closing around her nipples, squeezing them gently, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, sending sharp, exquisite jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
 
He was playing her body like an instrument, his hands and his mouth working in perfect harmony to create a symphony of sensation that was driving her to the brink of insanity.
 
He continued his exploration, his hands sliding down her stomach, his fingers tracing the soft curve of her belly, dipping into the sensitive hollow of her navel.
 
Neetu trembled, a violent, full-body tremor of pure sensation, her hips bucking involuntarily against his, a desperate, needy movement that she couldn't control.
 
His hands then moved to her thighs, his fingers stroking the soft, sensitive skin, his touch light and teasing, a promise of what was to come.
 
He squeezed her thighs, his hands moving higher, higher, until they were resting on the curve of her hips, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties.
 
Neetu's heart leaped into her throat.
 
This was it.
 
This was the moment of no return.