I went to the living room waiting for her to bring the tea. I turned on the TV and was blushing as I was thinking about the hug.My dick pressed against her lovely ass and the rustic smell just made me hard again. I heard her phone ring. She spoke to someone and I could hear her arguing. I went into the kitchen and I saw her sitting on the floor with tears rolling down her eyes. I asked her why she was crying she didn’t answer. I sat beside her. I asked her again. She looked at me and told me that her husband has married his mistress from whom he recently got a male child. She started crying. I consoled her. She was fine after some time as she knew this was going to happen. She served tea and we watched TV for some time. She cheered up after sometime as we were watching a comic TV series.She went to the kitchen and began preparing dinner for me. I went inside the kitchen and started talking to her. She was wearing a dark green sari with black blouse. I was sitting on the counter as. She imagined him in some fancy house in the city, fucking his naked wife from behind while he thought about her, and she pouted. Why did she have to be living out here in the sticks? She'd probably never see Mike again, and she'd probably never get fucked again as long as she lived.On Thursday afternoon she decided not even to bother checking out Mike's place. She knew he wouldn't be there, and it was a long ride over. Instead, after finishing up her chores, she hopped on her bike and headed up the road in the direction opposite the one she was used to going.The day was hot and humid, and she was soon sweating despite her bare legs and feet and her nearly open blouse. She pouted, thinking about how she wasn't allowed to wear a bikini halter in the summer like a lot of the other girls from school. She felt like ripping off her blouse and riding topless. She imagined herself peeling off her shorts and riding bottomless too, riding stark naked, her wet cunt slipping against the bicycle.
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