She lived in an old house, built in a desert town long ago, so all the rooms had doors, and all the doors had keyholes, whose keys had been long lost....Like most people then she didn't bother to lock her door during the day and I could peek through virtually every keyhole whenever I wanted. I often got to watch Mrs. Jessup in the shower. Lots of people had no air-conditioning, so she often took showers to cool off, and whenever I was home I would be peeking through the keyhole into her bathroom. Once I had joined them, the exhibition acquired an extradimension and it seemed that lots of lustful eyes gathered around thestable yards as we took our early morning rides.On this particular Sunday I found myself getting more and more agitatedas my rosie started to respond furiously to the sensations of peachespowerful shoulders throbbing in my crotch. Even before we had reached thelocal bridle-way, I was gasping for breath and turning bright red withexertions. Eventually I gasped to my. More

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