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The outfitcame with a short matching denim layered skirt. Theskirt sat low on my hips and landed at most half waydown my thigh. Between my top and skirt my belly wasexposed from ribcage to hip bone. I grabbed my flirtiest thong panties. They were tiny,pink and white with ruffles around the edges. I endedthe outfit with a strappy pair of sandals with a slightheel. I looked in the mirror. I looked good. In fact, Ilooked hot. Not slutty hot, but girl next door hot.Perfect. Just to be on the mean side I bent over tocheck my cleavage. No nipples. One more button theywould be on display. I checked my backside. Well, whatlady bends over straight legged from the waist anyway. Iwas ready to go. As I walked down the stairs Tom saw me first. He gave mean appreciative look, a thumbs up, and a smile. I smiledback. The other guys saw Tom and turned to look. Alltheir faces lit up except for my husband’s. He had adefinite scowl. I just said, “Anyone need another beer?” As I walked. "Oh god yes..." you groan softly. One finger slides between my lips guiding you in as as I let my weight settle, I let go feeling you glide deeper. You can feel the muscle contract tightly around you as the head slips past it. Angling my hips I can feel you slide slowly deeper and deeper. Being tied you you struggle and pull against the cuffs wanting so very badly to grab me and ease your sweet torment. Every throb of your cock as it reaches my furthermost depths is met with an echoing throb of my muscles tightening around it. Rocking first downwards grinding slowly against you hips your moans sweet to my ears I watch your body shifting under me trying so desperately to keep me close as I begin to withdraw even more slowly. Lifting until I can feel the slight tug of your head trying to draw back through the tight muscle inside of me, I rock my hips just slightly the muscle stroking the base of your head. You writhe, your shoulders pressing into the pillows as you rock your hips.
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She was cut out for the silence and air of wisdom and propriety that hung around the books like dusty clouds. He imagined being scolded by her for being too loud and grinned.“Where do you live?” he wanted to know. He would help her home, call her a cab, and forget about her. She was not the type of librarian he fantasized about – she had glasses, but they were the wrong kind, and even though her hair was scraped back out of her face, there was nothing sexy about it. She wasn't wearing nearly enough make-up and not at all the right kind of clothes, either. She was just a girl, hiding behind stacks of books. Her fingers were unadorned, and he guessed her to be single. She probably had four or five cats and a vibrator named Bob hidden in her nightstand that she rarely used because it made her feel guilty. “Up the street, I think,” she said, pointing vaguely with her fingers. “That way. You have pretty eyes.”He lifted an amused brow. ‘That way’ would take him to the kitchen and.

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