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I staggered to the bathroom. George helped me up and steadied me then went and kissed J as I sat down to pee.”Hurry up whore” he shouted. My dicklet started to swell.They both grinned as they saw me aroused after a brutal fucking. “Perfect” said J and I climbed onto the bed and started to wank them both off to get them hard again.”We’re taking you out of the country” said J as they both kissed me after positioning me between them so I could wank them off. “Portugal, my home” said J. “Thank you” I smiled and kissed him passionately.I was fucked again and again that night, throttled and spanked, fisted and slapped about. After each fucking I’d beg for more. I screamed in passion as they swapped fists inside my hole, begged them to let me lick their fists and sobbed as they fucked me again and again, telling me what a sexy fucking whore I am.We fell asleep eventually. I’d passed out three times. Twice at Js hands and once by George. Both men where enjoying the control over me, J would. And Oh My! She had not worn any salwar in her Punjabi dress. She was there in just her kurta and she was nude below waist!My eyes popped out of my head when I saw that and I quickly started masturbating. After 5mins when I was about to cum she caught sight of me and went away. I was disheartened. I don’t know how many males from our building must have masturbated looking at her huge thunderous thighs!Then came Diwali and their whole family came to our house for the 1st time to wish us. There mom started bragging about me as I am brilliant in studies and her son is very poor in maths. But he already had tuitions on! How I wished I could go to his house to teach him so can watch my sexy aunty daily.The next morning I woke up early @around 7 and I was sitting in my bedroom balcony when I saw my sexy aunty come to her window in her nightie. That nightie had almost 60% of her boobs out in the open. I am sure if the nightie had a cut just 1 inch below it would show her nipples. I had an.
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It contained some fruit and magazines. The soldiers moved on, and we all sighed of relief. In the evening, I called my mum again, almost finishing hubby’s telephone card. Mum hade made a few phone calls here and there, and had found a much quicker, much more efficient way of getting me the ticket. She had called the airline that I had talked to, and told them what the nice woman I had talked to had said to me – I’m purposely leaving out her name and the name of the airline company that she works for, in order not to get these wonderful dearies in trouble – and then mum had paid for my ticket over the phone with her VISA-card. All I had to do was to show up one hour before the plane left, and show my passport at the counter, and I’d get my ticket. Relieved and grateful, I thanked my mum and promised to call her from Stockholm. Me and hubby then went to fix his ticket. I was all set. Hubby suggested that we would go back to town and find a hotel room, but I protested. That would mean.

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