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But Seshu didn�t stop licking her pussy and he started licking even her pussy hair, pressing her ass by both his hands, and was eagerly sipping the juice coming out of her pussy hole.Rajeswari �Seshu.. What are you doing..It�s not good for health..leave me..A man should fuck a lady but not do such nasty things..even my husband didn�t do this to me..Please get up seshu..I am feeling bad for getting fucked by you and contrary to that you are also licking my pussy like this..Chi..Chi..stop it..please don�t enter my pussy with your tongue..� and she tried to lift seshu head from her pussy.But seshu with all his force, kept his face between her hot thighs and was licking rajeswari pussy lips and pressing her ass and thighs with both his hands.Rajeswari �Ummm Seshu..You are seducing me more and more..what are you doing to me..I am becoming mad of you..Ussshhhh..Ahhhh..Ohhh..� she was crying louder and started pressing his face deep into her pussy.First she felt guilty of what seshu was. She moaned and said ‘Oh honey, not now, you will be late for your train.’ She must have thought that I was dad. So I continued with my licking. She was responding, so I decided to put one, then two fingers in her pussy. This set her body in motion and she started to undulate. Moving her hips up and down and in circular motions. In about two or three minutes, she grabbed my head with her hands and shoved her pussy harder ito my face and squirted a load of her come into my mouth. Without removing the towel from her face she said, ‘that was beautiful honey, but you will be late for work.’ I had dropped my towel to the floor and grabbed my 6 1/2 inch cock. I got on the bed between her legs and rubbed my cock up and down her furry patch. She moaned slightly as I entered her. It took several seconds, but I was finally into her up to my balls. That’s when she pulled the towel from her face. She had a look of horror as she seen who it was. She didn’t yell or scream. She just said. ‘ you.
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But it was her, no doubt about it. She was on the straw, a larger pile this time. The scene looked colder. The golden ray was gone, and the sky in the picture, through the window above her head, was greyer.Needless to say I paid the twenty four dollars. But I had ask where it came from. The homeowners, alas, couldn’t say. The paintings had been in the attic. They found them when they moved in last year. But they had the name of the previous owner. Ben Seigmann. That was all the wife at the yard sale could recall.I hung the painting promptly, in the bedroom of course. Sometimes I did have company, and though reasonably tasteful in style, it wasn’t the sort of painting one displayed in the open. I could have been satisfied there, but a hunch had me looking up Ben Seigmann. The phone book didn’t help. Last year’s phone book did, but the number was at the home I’d bought the painting from. An internet search proved both fruitful and useless. Seigmann had passed away at age 84 from a.

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