Tenderness Only To Boys, Women Should Be Crying...

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Now she was naked, except for her fishnet stockings, and JL was beginning to drool from his lips and his cock. He dropped his robe where he stood and stepped out of his slippers as he almost ran toward Pussy.As on the earlier occasion, pussy spread her legs while she sat on the edge of the couch, and she gathered in JL between her legs when he got close enough. This is what he was hoping for as an hors d'oeuvre. His memory of Pussy's blow job style was almost enough to make him come before she even had her chance to kiss his cock.Pussy placed a teasing little kiss on the tip of his cock head. She stuck out her very educated tongue and began to lick his cock head and shaft. JL's cock length fell into the range of "long enough," so Pussy had no trouble deep throating him when she got that far in the blow job. JL had been anticipating this blow job all morning, so he came the moment he felt his cock head hit the beginning of her throat. He squirted four times directly into her throat. Sue had paid the barman and returned to join Anita and Chrissy, with both drinks in hand, and now Sue was eager to join the conversation. Anita smiled and winked at Sue, leaning into Chrissy to talk into her ear, leaving Sue unable to hear her conversation with Chrissy.Anita explained her idea to surprise Sue and her further conditions, causing Chrissy to giggle. Anita realised Chrissy was on board when she nodded and her free hand squeezed her arm. Chrissy excitedly replied into Anita’s ear and kissed her on the cheek. “Okay, I’ll let my friends know I won’t be joining them, I’ll be back in a minute.”Sue now felt a little at a loss at the possibility of having been used. It seemed this had all been a ruse for Anita to meet up with Chrissy. Sue passed Anita her drink and took a sip of her own, about to give Anita a piece of her mind.“Sue, what do you think of Chrissy? Is she a suitable substitute for Miss Stephens? She’s fit, tanned, has gorgeous boobs and a gorgeous tight ass.” Anita.
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Aunt Paula's hand was there to wield him. He was her puppet. Her thumb roamed his testicles, turning or stabbing them as she chose. If she liked, she'd brush his penis, knock it a bit to make it quiver. She drove her other finger deeper into his rectum. Cal did what he could to make his depths reachable. He was an armature, nothing more, from which the cunning tools of female domination hung. He might cry his eyes out. This was ecstasy all the same. The real, true thing. Cal stood outside himself, far more an extension of Paula's nerves and muscles than his own boy. He was less the boy of tears than the woman who found them beautiful. He was Aunt Paula's desire - fulfilled. He had alertness enough to see himself afloat on the high water of a woman's sorcery, but he had nothing beyond alertness: he lacked all greed now, all intention, all will except that things be as they are.When your will is gone, your sense of time deserts you too. A woman's accessory, incapable of intent, you.

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