‘So where do most of the women keep knives and such? In their blouse?’ Catherine seemed curious. ‘No…Hey! Rose! Come here for a second.’ Joh... called to a tall brunette who was walking with a pair of gentlemen ahead of John and Catherine. She walked over, and John smiled at her. ‘Catherine was wondering where you ladies keep your weapons. Catherine, any guesses?’ Catherine looked carefully at Rose. Her hair up in a coif, her exposed neck, and long neckline held more than a little attraction for. Then one of her hands left one of my nipples and she reached under her leg and started massaging my balls. I just knew that in just a couple more seconds, I would be shooting another cum shot in this gorgeous woman. I tried to hold off – tried to hang on to this sensational feeling as long as possible. But it would be only a couple more strokes to reach my orgasm. Her teasing my nipple, massaging my balls, feeling how tight, hot and wet she was, and looking at this perfect ebony goddess, I. I wiped my bloody hands with a handiwipe, futilely trying to remove the blood. Gloves made this type of thing so much less messy.My voice sounded mechanical to my ears, almost monotone, as I answered the officer. I drank the coffee and tried to feel something, but all the emotion seemed to have bled out of me like the blood-soaked, sheet-draped body lying beside my car. With minimal curiosity, I watched a uniformed cop give the passenger seat a cursory look before moving my car out of the. The performance didn't matter, our expectations only got in the way. When I sat down in the car and he started driving, all either of us knew was what we wanted. He wanted to touch my tits and I wanted to suck his dick.What does that have to do with this? Simple, it's not always about what you expect. It's about more than that. Sometimes your expectations are met, sometimes they're missed. Sometimes you are in control and sometimes you're controlled.In the end, isn't it all about pleasure? How.
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So he sat, spooning his chicken soup, and waited. And in she came. Same face – just more grown up. No acne now, he noted. Same hair, same smile as s
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