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Another push and her entire hand was inside to her wrist. My eyes and mouth were agape. I dropped my head back and glanced off Mr. Baldwin’s cheek bone. He reacted but his hands continued fondling me, one hand on a breast and the other down at my pussy. His hand stroked around his wife’s hand … or, really, her wrist because her hand had disappeared.She pushed more of her forearm into me. She was curious, apparently. Her fingers were exploring blindly. I flinched as her finger nail glanced over. She loved it, and hated it at the same time. She held her breath as she sensed a hesitation to his actions. He held back, and then, with a long, flat, stiff stroke of his tongue, he licked her pussy. The tip of his tongue curled just entering inside her lips. She gasped at the final attention and release that was caused from it. As she exhaled, she moaned pleased and thrilled. On Ethan’s backstroke, he held his tongue straight from his lips, flicking her still hooded clit, and penetrating. There were dishes drying on the dishrack—ugh, why did he always insist on having the glasses in front? Some nonsense about how they went into the cabinet first. The fridge contained nothing but a half-eaten box of pizza. There was a blanket and pillow on that terrible hammock-couch: why had he been sleeping out here? There was a perfectly good bed in the bedroom; she should know, she had slept in it for most of her life. Why had he stayed out here? Without really understanding how she got. K.a. Christi, looked around the expensively decorated master bedroom. There were abstract paintings on the wall, a sculpture of a naked woman without arms in the corner, and a bear rug near the fireplace at the end of the huge bed. She sat down comfortably on the king-sized bed, her feet not even reaching the floor, and she sunk down into the extremely soft quilt and mattress.Carol Trudeau entered the room, a bottle of wine in one hand, two long-stemmed wine goblets in the other. She looked.
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