I was a millionaire. I had been since my trusts vested at age twenty-one. A mid six figure check would put a bruise on my balance sheet. Worse, the pu...chase would be only the first of the costs. Look up an old Tom Hanks movie, The Money Pit. Better yet, Cary Grant's Mr. Blandings Builds his Dream House.I consciously put Dr. Richards in charge of the decision. Any way I looked at it, it was an outright gift, attached to a very reasonable land purchase. When you boiled out the excess, the offer. The two flavors mixed on my tongue, coming alive. I groaned, pressing my lips tighter against my daughter, my hijab brushing her thighs. My nose rubbed on her clit, my every inhalation full of her wicked scent.Such an intoxicating thrill ran through me as I cleansed my daughter, helping her perform for her client. She squeezed her thighs about my head, grinding her hot snatch against me like a wanton slut, so eager for her orgasm.My cunt itched to be touched, to be stroked. I ignored it,. More

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