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It felt wrong, what she was doing. But damned if it didn't feel joyously right. I was conflicted. Her hand was massaging my cock through my pants. I would have done anything she asked me to at that point. Lucky for me, the Devil won this round.She stepped back and grabbed the hem of the dress she was wearing and in a single smooth motion, pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. I drank in her nudity, her body. It was so deliciously sinful.Christine stepped over to me, grabbed my face and pulled me into a soul searing kiss. This girl knew how to kiss. I felt my toes curling. My balls pulled up against my body as blood rushed into my cock.She pushed against me and I felt myself falling. She landed on top of me on the bed, still kissing. She was dragging her nails down my chest and across my belly. My muscles were trembling from the sensation. She broke the kiss, smiled a devilish little smile and dipped down to kiss and lick my nipples. I had never had that done to me and it was. I said nothing of my suspicions,because that’s all they were. I had no real proof otherthan the apparent jism I was currently digesting as Iburied my head in her very moist, warm, soft hairycrotch.I knew if I continued with this line of questions, I knewI was bound to conflict with the issue of trust, so Ithought it best to avoid that subject. Beside, it wasapparent whoever the father was, she hadn’t plan to leaveme for him. It appeared our marriage was safe. After all,she did say it was “our baby” and that I would be the“daddy”. However, on further thinking, I realized shedidn’t say I was the father.TWO YEARS LATERI came in from work early one day to see my lovely Mariawearing only her bra, but it was off her tits, stillhooked but under her exposed luscious tits. She wassitting on a towel with her legs spread slightly cockedup. It appeared her pussy was draining onto the thicktowel she sat on. She had a martini in her hand.The other.
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The epaulet on his shoulder was gilt, not bullion, and the facings were modest too. His shoe buckles were shiny, but made of pinchbeck, and his stockings were fine cotton, not silk. He could not afford solid gold adornments on his everyday uniforms. His sense of priorities came to his help, and he shrugged inwardly. If the colonel took exception to his appearance, then so be it.There was a bell rope on the right side of the main entrance, and Anson pulled once. The soft sound of a small brass bell could be heard, but it took a minute before anybody showed. The door was opened by an old butler who took in Anson's uniform and appearance."Captain Jeremiah Anson, Royal Navy," he introduced himself. "If possible, I would ask for a few minutes of Colonel Maynard's time." Very well, sir! May I ask you to wait in the Colonel's study?" Thank you."And so, Anson waited for what had to be ten minutes before a man in his fifties entered the study wearing a house coat over formal breeches. Those.

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