There's something very erotic to me about a soapy feminine form - can't really explain it. I guess we all have our little "things" that turn our crank..., no? Anyway, it was really nice to scrub her body. I especially liked soaping up her generous-sized tits (at this point, they were more like tits than breasts). Leaving them soapy, I slid down her belly to her pussy. The soap seemed to explode in foam & bubbles, as it mixed with her pubic hair. I carefully stroked forward and back, being very. She stared at the clock as it ticked over. 7:07 now. She spat out the now-dead pop-o-mint gum and opened the MPC program. She intended to delete the whole program, but held back at the last. It wasn't its mistake, it was mine. She called up her own profile and typed a simple instruction: 'Do not think of Lattrell Corvos or the high school hostage situation until tomorrow morning.' She hit Send and closed the program.She found David waiting for her when she got outside. "Sorry," she said. "I got. She has always been and still is a tom boyish girl, with her short black hair and her long skinny legs. She never got into dresses and the other frilly things other girls her age were into, she always wore jeans and t shirts and never showed any more of her body than she had to. I remember the fight she put up when her mother made her wear a swimsuit instead of her normal shorts ant t-shirt while on vacation. This year was a little different, she started wearing those short cotton shorts and. Leaning over her, I took her neck with a swift bite. Immediately her cries changed from denial to orgasm as what was once too sensitive to be touched sent shock waves of pleasure throughout her body. The rougher my fingers were on her engorged clit, the more she thrashed beside me in unabashed ecstasy as I drank one mouthful after another of her sweetest blood. I couldn't think of anything I'd tasted in life that was sweeter than this blood of a woman in the midst of orgasm after being well.
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”“A beautiful thing,” he growled, “is seldom perfect. Isn’t that what they say, Miss Foster?”He looked me over again, lingering on the lit
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