Indian Girl Screaming mp4
Duets were for the new girls, who needed an extra pair of tits onstage, to make up for their poor dancing. Celia was new here, and foreign. I wasnt sure where she came from, but there was something mediterranean about her looks. She was exceptionally tall, with large breasts and luscious, waist-long hair. In the three weeks of practice I had not heard her say a single word, but she was such a good dancer that it didnt matter. She always followed my instructions perfectly, but had recently started adding moves of her own. During our last practice session, halfway through the routine, I was sitting with my back arched against the back of the chair and my legs apart. The music boomed, and I could feel the chair vibrate to the rhythm. Celias perfect body moving in front of me put me in a trance. The truth was, she was much better than me, and I was bitterly jealous. But under my velvet panties, which matched my corset perfectly, my pussy was soaking wet. So far, Celia had been. I talked with one of my leads, listening and making a decision about something, but my eyes were glazed and I was not paying attention. While this step was an emotional one, I felt so incredibly aroused I could not find a comfortable position to sit. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, my lead looking at them (I have rather nice legs) and probably wondering if I was trying to seduce him. At one point, after he left, I actually reached down and touched myself for a little while. I couldn?t help it. My hand slipped down, trying to find a way to get access to my pussy. I was wearing a skirt, it was too tight to slip my hand in at the waist? and I couldn?t touch myself by reaching up from below. Not without pulling the skirt up, at least. Moments later, and my skirt was hiked up to my hips, and my hand was firmly massaging my clit under my desk. All I could think of was going home to Jason, being bound and taken by him. Finally, the time came. Things were finished at work, at least enough.
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