Adultery Little sis Anjali and her friends

[prasannas2001]

 
 
 
 
Her face was heart-shaped, dominated by enormous dark eyes that seemed to take up half her features, eyes that were wide now, round with shock and something else, something that glittered beneath the surface.
 
Her lips were full and pink, slightly parted, and her cheeks were flushed with a deep, rosy heat that crept down her slender neck.
 
Her hair was pulled back in a simple, unadorned ponytail, the dark strands glossy and thick, and a few rebellious wisps had escaped to frame her face in soft, feathery curls.
 
She was wearing a modest salwar kameez in a pale mint green, the fabric light and flowing, but it couldn't hide the subtle curves beneath.
 
She was slim, deliciously so, her waist impossibly narrow, her hips gentle and barely there.
 
But her bust was surprisingly full for such a slight frame, round and firm beneath the modest neckline of her kameez, straining ever so slightly against the soft fabric.
 
The swell of her breasts rose and fell with each rapid, panicked breath, and the way the fabric stretched across them hinted at a softness that seemed almost sinful on such an innocent face.
 
Her eyes were fixed on him, frozen in a moment of pure, unadulterated panic.
 
Her lips were slightly parted, her cheeks burning crimson, her entire body trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.
 
And her hand was between her thighs.
 
It was frozen mid-motion, her fingers pressed against the fabric of her salwar, her palm cupping the warmth of her most intimate place.
 
She had been watching. She had been touching herself to the sight of him with Neetu.
 
"Sir, " Her voice was a high, breathless squeak. "I, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I was just, "
 
"How long have you been watching?" His voice was calm, measured, but his eyes were dark and hungry, devouring every detail of her trembling form.