I hadn't had a case in a week and the whiskey bottle was gettin' low. The steady drumming of rain on my window had sprung a leak from the ceiling into my wastebasket, and was starting to convince me I should go home early when I saw her silhouette flash through the window on my office door against a sudden bolt of lightning. I sat up a little, adjusting my tie and off-kilter fedora as she turned the handle and timidly opened the door. I've seen my share of broads that could turn a head or two, but nothing prepared me for what walked through that door. The brim of her light purple sunhat came in first, and she took it off and set it aside as she closed the door. It was clear she didn't have an umbrella and her hat was as drenched as she was. I got a good look at her as she turned from the door and walked over to my desk, breathing heavily like she'd been running. She wore a violet colored sundress that matched the yellow ribbons on her hat, but with the rain it didn't flow like a sundress should; it clung to her naked body like a thin coat of paint. Her nipples stood up against the chill but her dress cut so low you could almost see them anyway and I didn't have to frisk her to know she wasn't smuggling a bra and panties under that dress. If she'd been dry the dress would have flowed free from her bust line almost down to her thighs, and I felt my pants tighten as my eyes ran up and down her generous curves that the dowsed dress did nothing to hide. Her skirt had ridden up in her hurry and I didn't have to guess that she kept herself shaved where it counts. She must've felt my eyes on her because she pulled the hem of her dress back down to her upper-thigh as she sat and crossed her legs. I asked if I could help her, leaning forward to hide the bulge in my boxer shorts. "I hope so," she said hopelessly, fixing her hair and trying not to look so pitiful. She clasped her purple handbag in her fidgeting, lace-gloved hands; a nervous defensive posture I told myself. I tried to calm her down by telling her to start at the beginning. I was still a PI and I had a reputation to recover, no matter what this dame was doing to my adrenaline levels. She calmed down a bit and started weaving her yarn. It was the same sad tale I'd heard a thousand times: a deadbeat brother who she's devoted to, squanders the family savings and has now gone missing, and it's all she can do to compose herself. I handed her my handkerchief and give her a sympathetic look; broads love that kind of stuff. She goes on and my eyes slide down to watch her breasts as they heave slower and slower and she starts breathing normally. They were like a fine wine, and I was already a raging alcoholic. She's saying something about "every penny she had" when I shift in my chair to casually rearrange my dick into a less conspicuous position. After five minutes or so, I stand up, still listening to her sob story, and walk around to sit in front of her on the edge of my desk. I act like it's because I'm interested, but I couldn't sit there another minute without getting a good look at her legs. They were still glistening from the rain and my eyes followed them from her ankles all the way up to her ass. She had on some kind of strappy high heel that tied with a ribbon in a bow at her ankle. She sure was some piece of work, and whether I could help her or not I was sure glad she came into my office. As I went to sit back down I nodded a few times and assured her that her brother would turn up sooner or later without any help from me. She gave me the "Oh but you must," line and started dabbing her eyes again. Indian Girls Fucking I knew it wasn't worth me takin' the case; she had all but told me she couldn't pay me. I must have looked pretty disinterested, because she started in with her feminine charms. "I'm sure I have a picture of him in here somewhere," she said as she looked half-heartedly through her handbag. On the slimmest of pretexts she got up and dumped the contents of her purse out on her chair, then bent over til her face was an inch from the knick knacks she was piecing through. "There, there Trish, may I call you Trish? What are you doing Professor? Her mixed signals were confusing her. He climbed off the bed and Indian Girls Fucking walked over to the door, locking it. Mike began toweling his make-believe daughter. We sat on the sofa and finished off the champagne. Monsters rampaged the city. “I don’t do well at parties. She moaned and pushed onto his cock wanting it deep inside her cunt again. “Would you like to know what I am doing right now? Turning to Sato, Dave said, “I’m in your debt, sir.” Sam whimpered, her own orgasm dying. “That`s nice. “Why?” “Stop spouting all that filth, you fucking pervert! after a few minutes of being her brother's fleshlight - she let out a scream of pure ecstasy and a torrent of her juices came flooding out of her pussy, all over her brother's cock, torso and sheets. "Mom asked, Cora replied in an almost whiny tone, "it feels so so good, Daddy's dick feels so good inside me." Joy told Cora,"say cock instead off dick they like that."Ok, Daddy's big hard COCK feels so good inside me," Cora said. I have never seen anything so violent ever before in my entire life. Aarti recovered first, sat in a dining chair and crossed her arms across boobs. She took off her shoes too. The same was true about Tyrone the pimp who disappeared into the mists of history, with little notice and no missing of him. I..." she softened, "...will give you a chance to free them." Sleeping with an old boyfriend isn’t cheating as I see it. She chuckled.