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I roughly towelled myself dry and returned to the bedroom, I picked up our things and carefully laid them across a chair I looked at her, naked except...for the black stockings and the butterfly, the room had a subtle smell of sex, female arousal, which was in itself stimulating. I wondered what to do; cuddle up and go to sleep with her or wake her and start again, I decided on the former, dimmed the lights, lay down next to her and cuddled up. I closed my eyes, the smell of her perfume reaching. “I think we need to do a, uhm, comparative check.” It was getting harder for her to keep up the charade, I noticed that, even in my lust-filled stupor. Yet I couldn’t grasp what she meant at first. Until she opened the button and fly of her shorts, that is, and pushed them down her lean, well-tanned legs. Her panties were of the thin, expensive white cotton kind, fitting snugly over her plum. I licked my lips when I saw the wet stain on the front that made them almost see-through. She was. My breasts were pressed against the broad field of his chest muscles, my stomach caressing his. He rested his hands on the rise of my butt and held me until the shivers stopped. When I broke apart from him he was looking down into my eyes and I saw a moment of pure feral lust in them. I recognized it, I wanted it. My heart thudded heavily as my blood raced; I wasn't wary, I wasn't self-conscience, I didn't avoid his eyes. In less than a second I knew I could fuck my father. The fire in my. As each shoe returned to the countertop, I noticed that she leaned back on her heels. She asked, "Do you like the sound of crunching from my shoes?" I nodded yes. "Good, I like the feeling of crunching in my shoes." Marisa added with her mouth set in a firm line. She slowly shifted her weight forward and I heard the small pickles crunch as they slowly flattened. "Wow, you really stretched that out. I’m impressed." I complimented. I was surprised at her next move. Marisa swung her left leg.
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