" He groaned. As I exhaled my last breath of smoke and flicked the cigarette away I turned round to look at him. He smiled, placed a second cigarette ...etween my lips and with both of his hands started grabbing at my breasts. I looked down at his cock to see who or what was still using my hand to stroke his cock. But there was nothing holding my hand. I don't know how long I had been doing it for but I had subconsciously squeezed my tiny hand around his fat cock and had continued to wank him. The dance studio/dojo was becoming a place for nonsexual lubrication, of ways to communicate in movement. Tony was accentuating that with his music, encouraging others to join just as he encouraged people into his gym.First when there’s nothingBut a slow glowing dreamThat your fear seems to hideDeep inside your mindAll alone I have criedSilent tears full of prideIn a world made of steelMade of stoneWell, I hear the musicClose my eyes, feel the rhythmWrap aroundTake a hold of my heartWhat a. More

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