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I swiftly move from the foyer towards the kitchen. I’ll be preparing lasagna tonight, I hope you’re hungry…for food and…me. I began to imagine you taking me on the dining table. Pinning me down, and fucking me hard. These naughty thoughts made me smile and horny. I shoved off those nasty fantasies for the meantime, I need to focus in cooking our dinner. I removed my blouse and skirt, it would be very uncomfortable to cook in those soaking clothes. Left with my matching laced-black-undies and. There was a fair amount of skin moving around as I did so but the ample amount of oil I'd applied kept it from being a problem.I scooted down her legs again, drizzled oil on her right thigh, then began a two-handed massage making sure to make repeated passes to get the sides done properly. On each pass I made sure let my fingertips brush her pussy lips as they went down between her legs. I did the same on her left thigh, then stood up and stooped down at the foot of her lounger. My penis was. She would baulk and back out, and likely send him home in the snow. But here, in this bedchamber, he couldn’t allow her to take control. She obeyed. Her hands went to the laces of her dress, and began to loosen them. He didn’t offer to help, just stood there watching her. Her fingers shook slightly, but he said nothing to reassure her. In the silence, her shaking increased. The dress fell to the floor. She wore only a light chemise under it. ‘That too,’ he said hoarsely. She untied the. I heard nothing, so I headed through the kitchen toward the door to the basement stairs. When I opened it, I could see the light was on in the big room, so I walked downstairs. As I cleared the ceiling and took in the room before me, I stopped immediately. Sitting in the rocking chair was a man. A gray haired man. A gray haired man with a gun. He didn’t look anything like he had the last time I saw him almost three years ago, but there was no doubt it was Leonard Saunders. Huddled in the far.
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