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I knew what he wanted so I breathed in deeply and tried to relax. He held my head and pushed hard. I gagged at first when his head hit the back of my throat and I nearly had to push him away but then he slid into my throat. “Good girl” he moaned, “take it all”. He pushed a bit harder and I felt my throat stretched as he slid further in until my nose was pressed against his pelvis and his balls rested against his chin. He held himself there, pulling the back of my head and stopping me from withdrawing. My lungs were starting to spasm for air and I tried to push back. He held me there for another few seconds before allowing me to pull my head back and gasp. I was panting like a dog trying to get air back. I’d just caught my breath when I felt his grip tighten on my head again. “Again” he ordered. I knew better than to resist. My experiences with Troy taught me that he loves deep throat so I also knew this was my best bet at getting him off. I took a deep breath again and stuck my. Medieval windmills waved at them with their wind wheels spinning languidly in the near wind still summer heat. Quaint villages with sleepy dogs and chirpy birds passed them.The standing heat made them tired. The girls were reading books and listening on their iPods. At night, the heat would not want to clear out of the boat. The girls slept out of view in their bedroom with the windows wide open. The night air was filled with the smell of trees and fish. Father was sleeping in plain view, whenever the girls came out for the midnight bathroom break.At first, he slept in long flannel pajamas. After tossing and turning the whole first night in misery, practicality had won over chastity. He slept in his briefs. They were old, cotton things with snappy waste bands. He had apologized to the girls and tried to explain. They had only sniggered at him with a fake accent: "This is France, land of the Frenchmen. Frenchmen have strange customs." And, that was it.The second night, the rocking of.
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