He stopped the rusticity of his movements, trying to focus on a sound coming from the house closest to his. It was poetry and seduction and light and ...eace and every other contradiction to his world. At the first slow stroke, the crescendo seeped through his thoughts like warm hot chocolate velour over a coconut ice-cream. The violin beckoning gently as it unwound, rising and tensing. It spiraled upward soothing his hunger with its lovely melody. She saw him first through her kitchen window. “And don’t worry about not making me come sucking me. Maybe we need to work out the right way of doing it.”She started to rub my prick, pressing on the underside of the shaft the way I had told her. That was more intense, and I knew she would make me come soon that way. Her hands were gentle and soft, but she applied just the right amount of pressure.“Tell me when you are about to come,” she said. “I want to put my mouth over you so you come in my mouth. At least that way it will be almost like. More

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