His hand went to the wall next to us, while his other clenched into a fist.“See her in a skirt, maybe? Not wearing any panties, so she can fuck you...in the bar? “ I kept up the stroking, long, slow teases of his shaft, barely touching the nerve endings. “Maybe she’ll have an accident, and her skirt will rise up, showing everybody what a slut she was?” He started to gyrate his hips now, and his pre-cum was dribbling. I leaned into him, and breathily whispered into his ear, ending with a soft. Often, this would result in supper being delayed or forgotten.Connie continued to worship my body—it's the only accurate description I can come up with. She washed my hair in the shower, rubbed my feet (if you don't think that can be erotic, think again) and was always ready to apply moisturizer in the places I couldn't reach. She painted my toenails too, a chore I didn't always have time for. I stopped shaving my underarms and trimming my pubic hair at her request. After the itching stopped, I. More

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