He harvested and gathered other things as well but he was reticent to share his trade secrets.Zeb argued with the zeal of a philosopher that the Waste...had its own beauty. Porter really did not agree but kept that thought private as he did not want to insult his rescuer. Porter’s proof was his encounter with his first stink bush that morning where he barely avoided being covered in a putrid smelling powder when one of its sacs burst next to him. He was still haunted by a lingering smell in his. He slides his fingers underneath me, replacing his button with his thumb again, and, with his fingers inside of me, I rotate my hips. My back arches, his fingers hitting the wall of my pussy. Frenzied from longing, I undo his jeans, sliding them off and tossing them. He pulls his shirt off, muscles flexing, and I run small hands up his chest, biting his earlobe, brushing my hands against his abdomen. One hand slides down, slipping under his boxers, and I slowly free his dick. Too impatient to. More

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