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Pulling against my restraints. You pumped my cunt again and again, your balls slapping against my ass, I started to tense my pussy and then I came, yo... let go of my boob and started rubbing my slit, pressing down hard, I couldn't contain my moans which were loud even though they were muffled. My orgasm kept hitting me and it was so fucking good that I started to cry. You lent down and kissed one of the tears that ran down my cheek and then licked over my lips and the gag. You kept pumping into. “That alright to do Rachel, you know, to do the massage, or do you want me to just put on the lotion?”The only response I got was a low moan, so I continued. Grasping her shoulders firmly I squeezed and massaged them firmly until I saw her breathing become slow and rhythmic, relaxing. I followed with a gentle caress of her neck with my oiled palms. Then I delicately ran my fingers up her shell-like ears, being sure to coat the insides so they didn’t burn. I repositioned myself over her ankles.. It's always the eyes, isn't it?I'm not saying it was love at first sight. Let's not get crazy. I was so far from it at the time it's not even funny. But sometimes you just see a girl and there's this aura. You just know she's special. The meat-meter just goes offline -- or at least you feel guilty getting a reading.You think, Woah, there, this one's a Nice Girl.Bullshit -- how can you know that? You're projecting. This girl could be a stripper, or a con artist, or a serial killer for all you. Once in London I would place my hypothesis before John Stafford, and hope he would engage me to go to Cadiz to locate the evil woman.Westminster Steps were wet and greasy from the fine spray whipped up by the fierce east wind blowing along the River Thames, and I made a careful way up them to Bridge Street. Force of habit took my feet along George Street, leading to Queen Street.I stopped abruptly when I realised where I was headed. My bed for the night was to be at Rob Crawshay’s lodgings in.
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