She returned to her seat as well, and in the silence she thought, ‘He spoke not a word…’ so that her mind began to fill lines of the old Clement...Moore poem. ‘He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, filled all his stockings, and turned with a jerk…’ As soon as her brain reached the word stockings, a full flush crept up her neck, and she moved her gaze from his face to her glass, grabbing at her straw and twirling it around with her right thumb and index finger. Then he spoke, ‘It’s. I undid my jeans, and started to slip them off. I imagined his hand working their way down my chest, playing with my nipples, kissing me deeply as he did so. I played with my hard clit, rubbing it, making the rest of my pussy ache. He always did this too, I remembered. Playing with my clit until I could barely take it anymore, my pussy grinding against his hand and soaking wet. I pushed my jeans down further, until they were completely off. I rolled onto my stomach and ground my clit against. More

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