John moved toward the bed but she shook her head, pulling him over to the bentwood rocker resting in a pool of moonlight. ‘Here?’ He asked with amusement, and she nodded vigorously, barely waiting until he had sat down and settled before she was clambering on top of him. ‘Wait…..,’ he muttered, and once sharply, ‘Ouch!’ when she accidentally pinched his thigh between her butt and the chair. Finally she settled her warmth around him – her legs draped over the arms of the chair, her breasts pressed snug against his chest, her arms reaching over his shoulders to grip the back of the chair. His hands dropped to cup her buttocks as he began to rock in the chair – each time he rocked feeling much like what he imagined sex in a swing would feel like – neither of them having to move, the rocking motion itself providing all the internal action needed. Looking over her shoulder he realized the chair was still perfectly positioned for viewing oneself in the cheval glass, watching the sweet,. I took the window side. In a few minutes our journey started. Half an hour has passed. Night was beginning to fall, as winter was starting to come by. The bus was moving fast. The wind was blowing inside pretty fast. I enjoyed that. My next sit was still empty. I started to doze. I enjoy sleeping in the bus as this makes me not to feel the boredom the bus journey usually brings. The bus has reached Tomarghat. Two persons got in. A middle aged man and a lady. The lady must be his wife as the way they talkd made that very evident. They came towards the back side searching place to sit. The seat on my right was still empty. The lady took that sit. The man moved further back. A place in the last long seat was available. The bus was already moving. The wife eagerly looked back. When she saw her husband had got a seat she was relieved. She comforted herself in her Seat. I glanced at her. She was of the age 30-35. A bit plump, fair skinned with a pretty face and she was wearing a saree. But.
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