OOOOO..."She began cooing and mewing as she rode the rising waves of pleasure, for what seemed like hours, or was it just seconds? The tongue danced a...ross her most private parts, circling and dipping into her. She felt her juices flowing freely, dripping in thin rivulets down her thighs and legs. The suckling mouth and long tongue continued its ecstatic exploration of her swollen labia and clitoris.Her cooing and mewing gave way to more incoherent sounds as the fingers and mouth drove her. She had once asked her mother why she didn’t have a daddy. Marcheline had told her the unvarnished truth: Patrick Hurst hadn’t loved or wanted her. He had walked away from her without looking back. French realized many years later exactly how cruel her mother had been to tell her, at the tender age she had been, that her father hadn’t wanted her. Learning that her father had thrown her away had confused her, especially when Marcheline had maliciously told her that her father had three children. People were coming up and down, so he decided to investigate upstairs too. It was clear, Johnny and Renatta slept in separate beds, in separate rooms. He noted, there was no en-suite bath between the two living quarters, not even a private path between the marriage beds.Most of the doors were open and the artwork was exceptional.He thought, “Either they have great taste in art or the place was professionally furnished.”He was studying a model of an old sailing vessel encased in a glass cube. He. All I know is that, in the boiling cauldron of my nascent sexuality, all sordid fantasies began at the tips of Laura's perfect toes. I'd lost count of the times I'd thought of those delicious treats as I played with myself in the dead of night, shuddering to a climax at the thought of pressing my nose into the space behind her toes, gorging myself on the exotic taste of her soles, smothering my face in the exquisite softness of her nylon soles. Because Laura always wore nylons, without.
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