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Mrs. Jemima Rana. I pondered her name. It sounded Indian. That would explain her beautiful hair and deep brown almond shaped eyes but she had no hint...of an accent and she didn't seem as eastern as I would have expected. She was certainly not dressed in the style of the east. She wore a white fitted blouse and dark grey, above the knee, pencil skirt. I had noticed a matching jacket in the overhead rack above her. Her make up was immaculate, not overdone and not a single hair out of place. I. My ass was starting to burn. My ballswere boiling over. "Hurry," I urged. I couldn't wait muchlonger."Wait-wait-hold on. . ." she gasped. I could tell she was closeby the thick sound of her voice. "Oh-oh." Her body spasmed."Here it is. Oh god, here it is."Even as she said it, I was cumming too, growling like an animaland hugging her close with my calves.When it was over, she helped me to my feet and unlocked thecuffs.I rubbed my sore wrists. I was dazed. "God," I said. "That was.. .". More

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