I didn't call her in the evenings to talk, I didn't spend a lot of time with her at school, I didn't hold her hand at lunch, I didn't look for her on ...he sidelines during our games. She was a receptacle for me, a cum receptacle. She did the work for me so I didn't have to use my hand to jack off. Every Friday night, every Saturday night, and one time on a Sunday afternoon, we managed to meet somewhere to jump each other's bones. I ate her out, she gave me head, I fucked her or she fucked me.. She made a small sound in her throat, but otherwise didn’t react to his ministrations.Reluctantly he quit molesting her breasts and actually worked on the muscles that supported them. He then moved his fingertips to her cheeks and jaw, but admitted to himself it was just to touch her there, rather than as any part of the massage.“I guess we’re finished,” he sighed.“No we’re not,” she said, her eyes still closed.“What’s still sore?” he asked.“Nothing. I feel wonderful. You’re a good. More

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