Call Center :: Indian Sex Stories

“Your fat, bare cock’s inside me, but I’m sooo tight and you’re sooo huge, and long, and throbbing inside. Deep, deep inside. Makes me cry, it feels so.... Oh....”

I sipped my cold drink and scratched that itchy spot on my cheek.

“More, Dira, my little brown Dira.” I rolled my eyes. “Tell me more about how you feel when I’m fucking you.”

I checked the money clock and laid on the British Raj, sax-crazed, innocent for “Harry, from Cleveland, um, no Akron.” As if I’d hunt him down to marry me or tell his wife and kids about the expensive customer service I provide him; several times a week.

“Mm, ow. Ow! Harry, you’re getting bigger, longer, loving my wet, aching pussy. It’s wet, sucking, and gripping on your massive, ferocious tiger’s cock. You’re stretching me and fucking so hard, your huge balls, swollen full, smack against my asscheeks.

“Fuck me harder, Harry, fuck me deeper and harder. Oh, yes. You lean into me, pushing your fat cock harder and deeper—. Oooh. Feels so good, the way YOU fuck me. Oh. Huge Harry, fuck me. Mm. I looove your cock, love it in my dripping, squirting pussy. It’s so, so wet and needing you, just you, oh.

“Harry, don’t stop. Don’t.... Oh. Oooh. My Huge Harry and his huge.... Oh. Oh. Faster. Faster, Harry, fuck me faster and … oh. Mmmm.”
Harry said, “I’m cumming, little brown Dira. I’m-I’m.... Ah!”

I hummed softly, while he panted and recovered, on the clock.

Finally, he said, “That was great, Dira, the best. Call you back, a couple days. You’re still wet, aren’t you?”