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I felt her slightly loose stomach, her firm back and, once again, returned to her breasts. As soon as I did I felt her excitement grow. Never before had I know a woman with such sensitive tits. She was still sat on my thigh as I began a gently rhythmic squeezing, pulling stroking motion, almost as if I were massaging a tiny penis, first on one nipple and then using both hands to do both at once. Her breath began to come in short gasps and she had to stop our kissing and rest her head against mine. To my utter surprise she then gripped me tight, muffling a squeal against my neck and I felt her body stiffen as she ground her arse onto my thigh the heat of her groin obvious. She gasped and gulped for air as I halted my groping and I felt her relax into me. “Oh, fuck,” she sighed, “they always were sensitive. Never had that happen though!” “You came already?”, I blurted out, amazement in my tone. “You better believe it,” she grinned.So saying she stood up. I was now almost at eye level. .. it I can't happen! I am an English Lady. A real lady. Lady Isabel Dysart. Somehow the authorities will rescue me... us. They must! This is madness!“N: „I am not... not a Lady. But I am a woman. And I know a woman like me... and you... has... has a price, eh? Is of value? We have been bought. You saw, you heard... by that woman who came... when we were chained.“I: (Incredulously) „I... bought? No... never! For what... for what?“N: „For some man. Men, maybe. For their pleasure. It has happened.“I: (Beginning to sob) „Oh God no! It must... it must... be a nightmare.“(A long silence ensues broken only by their mutual sobs)N: „You feel the cords cutting? You feel me... my breasts... against yours?“I: „Yes... yes. And I cannot bear it much longer.“N: „So it cannot be a dream. It is reality.“I: (Desperately) „It can't be!“N: „He... that awful man... said we were to... to serve... a Princess...“I: (More desperately) „It can't be true!“(Another silence broken by gasps and sobs. Both woman.
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’ ‘Ah.’ Charlie had been enjoying Austria since he had arrived a few days back. He’d enjoyed the scenery as he came in, and was certainly enjoying the hotel. It was quite fancy, extravagant, and impressive. His thoughts soon of course turned to the women of the hotel. Most of the guests were already married, and he found it hard to communicate with the staff, attractive as they were. One morning, he went to the lounge for a little relaxation. He saw a very beautiful woman reading alone in a large chair over by the World War I memorial. Who knows, he thought as he sat down next to her, she could turn out to be very nice. It was worth a try. ‘Um, hi.’ he said nervously. Admittely, he had almost forgotten how to talk to a regular woman. ‘Greetings.’ the woman said back, looking up. ‘I’m Charlie Bucket.’ he said, offering his hand. ‘Lucy Pevensie.’ she said, shaking back. ‘Waiting for someone?’ ‘Oh no, I’m not in a relationship at the moment.’ ‘Neither am I. What are you reading?’ She.

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