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| I sip tea as if you are an afterthought lying there over my lap your buns upturned and impatient pussy wet and wishing fullness nipples tight against the couch at last you feel my fingertips caressing the womanly curves of your body reading you skin as if braille the kneading of full cheeks hand steading base of neck it's not gentleness that you crave but the fiery heat of hand raining down it's fury converting ivory to magenta and craving to orgasm |
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