A naughty gleam twinkled in her eyes as she stared at me. She licked her lips and shifted on the floor. “I am Fahima,” she said. “Allah's blessi...gs be upon you, Nova.”I smiled as I sat down beside my wife, my futa-dick throbbing.“Perhaps we should be going,” said Rizwana. “Your new wife is awake, Wahida. I am sure you two have much... to discuss.”“To get to know each other?” I asked, grinning at them. “We did plenty of that last time, didn't we, my love?”Wahida's dusky cheeks darkened. She. To start with she was carrying the overalls, instead of wearing them. She was apparently in her late twenties, though Martha knew she was thirty-five, and a strikingly beautiful and sophisticated looking young woman with a round face and foreign looking slanted eyes. She had long black hair which hung loosely across her shoulders and half covered her small pert breasts which had a yellowish tinge. Below her belly was a neat black thatch no more than an inch or two across which clearly needed no. More

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