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As strange as it may seems, I was disappointed, due to my decades-long wanking history and the recent experience with Dave, I knew how a cock should taste and smell, now, however, the shower was watering the flavour down to nothing and also washing away any precum I could have sucked. I made a mental note for the future, and found comfort in the fact that at least I had a cock in my mouth. Oblivious to my thoughts, Dave had started swinging his hips back and forth, slowly fucking my mouth: I. The President had said something stupid, again, and the attention of the press had turned from Dexter back to Washington. He was pleased that he was no longer the center of national attention.He climbed from the wheelchair into the taxi. The driver appeared to be in his late forties to early fifties. The man didn’t even bother to look towards Dexter. “Where to?”Dexter told the taxi driver the address of his apartment. He was looking forward to returning home. He still felt weak, but he figured. It reminded him of something and he was trying to think of what."I guess so..." Arlene replied, feeling a little spark of desire germinating in her belly. His eyes... so blue... so full of... she knew not what. She only knew that Tim Cassidy was the most exciting man she had ever been in the same room with."Better be careful," Tim cautioned in a joking manner, "alcohol does strange things to little girls!"Arlene flushed angrily. Turning, she said, levelly, "I am not a little girl, Tim... you. He saw it in my eyes. "What are you thinking?" he asked me. I looked down and then back to him. "I dunno. I just want to cut." No," he said sternly. "I know, I know.." "I mean it, Odd." I know..." I said meekly. My right hand was rubbing my left forearm through my hoodie. He grabbed my hand softly, moving it away, looking me straight in the eyes. "Show me," he whispered. "Show you what?" I said confused. "Show me your scars."My heart stopped. I was not one to flaunt my scars. I tried to keep.
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