Japanese fetishes include explicit oral and genital contactI walked into the seedy bar, looking for a good time. The air was thick with smoke and desperation. I spotted her - Aunty, her name tag read. She was a real looker, even if she did have a few extra pounds. I sidled up to her and ordered a whiskey. "So, what's the deal?" I asked, trying to sound suave. "Just looking for some company," she purred, her eyes locked on mine. "I'm Aunty, by the way." I raised an eyebrow. "Aunty? That's... unique." She winked at me. "Hey, it's a contact number, if you know what I mean." She leaned in close and whispered, "Himatnagar." I felt my cock stir at her words. "Oh yeah?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant. We chatted for a bit, exchanging stories about our respective jerking-off sessions. I was impressed by her... creativity. When she asked me if I wanted to take things further, I didn't hesitate. As we stumbled out of the bar, Aunty's hand found its way onto my ass. "You're a real wanker, aren't you?" she said, her voice husky. I grinned. "Guilty as charged." We ended up back at her place, where things got pretty wild. Let's just say I won't be forgetting the blowjob of a lifetime anytime soon. And when it was my turn to return the favor, Aunty let out a little anal cry that still makes me blush. As we lay there, spent and sweaty, she leaned over and whispered something in my ear. "You know, Himatnagar is just a phone number away..." I raised an eyebrow at her, but she just winked and said, "Aunty contact number Himatnagar." I shook my head, laughing. "You're something else, Aunty." She smiled, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Hey, when you're as good as I am, you don't need a phone number to get what you want."
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