“I have a taxi booked in about half an hour which gives us a few minutes to be naughty,” she said running her hands around to the front and scratc...ing my clit through my thong, which always drives me wild. I squirmed to her touch.“We haven’t got time for that,” I hopelessly protested.She removed her hand from under my skirt and led me towards the sofa where she sat keeping her eyes fixed firmly on mine.“Seeing you dressed like that and touching you has made me very horny,” she declared. Sitting. His sandy brown hair is the same shade as his eyes. He doesn’t have facial hair, and his skin looks soft, only disturbed where his matching dimples dent into his cheeks every time he smiles. Initially I was surprised at his size when I learned he was a sculptor. Artistic men aren’t always...masculine. Though I only just met him, it seems effortless for him, natural. My eyes wander to his hands. His large, creative hands, and my insides twitch imagining them at work. When my eyes flicker back. More

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