He would normally tell me if he were going out.The sound of my heels echoing as I walked across the wooden floor sounded very eerie before I turned on...the lights and headed into the kitchen.I took a glass from the cupboard and poured myself a much needed glass of red wine. I could feel the tension in my body from the day's work slowly ease as I sipped the wine. Still wondering where Peter was I reached into my bag and pulled out my packet of cigarettes. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I was. She lifted his balls, tonguing under them."Yeah, lap my cockmeat, you bitch!" he rasped.Claire began to lick up his prickshaft, her hot, nimble tongue slipping back and forth, tracing up the line of his dark vein. She fluttered her tongue against the underside of his knob, where it flared out from his cockshaft and the vein spread out into the fat, bivalved head. Mike moaned with the wonderful feeling."You cocksucker!" he growled. "Lap it up, bitch! Tongue my cockmeat, you cum-drinking. More

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