Pakistani Stayathome Masturbation Challenge

His words course through my body, melting my rigid form and I reach for him. Because I missed him, too. As soon as he sees me move, he wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me fiercely. My feet are inches above the ground, my arms wrapped around his neck as he sways my body side to side as if to intensify his embrace. I let out a strangled gasp, or sob, I’m not entirely sure. Being in his arms after these hellacious couple of weeks makes me want to sing, or cry, or both. I’m not too sure at the moment. I just know I’m glad he’s here. “Ethan,” I whisper his name, and his arms get impossibly tighter around me. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers into my hair, slightly shaking his head. "Me too,” I reply. “You have no idea how bad I’ve felt-” “Sshhh,” he hushes me. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, and I almost do cry. He has no idea how shitty I felt after that all went down. He was growing on me, and I felt like I ruined everything. That situation was just fucked up all around,. Alone in the VIP suite, I began my transformation in earnest with my prosthetics. Disposable income – and lots of it – had again been my blessing. These next-generation prosthetics were the best yet; latex-skinned and silicone-gel-filled, they were a visual and tactile delight. Better still, the company that manufactured them could, for the proverbial “extra charge”, custom-make them to the customer’s exact specifications. Extra charge, indeed. I could have bought a used car for what I spent, but they were worth it. Mama had demanded input in my purchase, and it showed, both in price and results.Pre-positioning the breasts and making the alignment marks on my skin with a felt-tipped pen was the work of a couple of minutes. It took a bit longer to spray the bases with the super-strong medical-grade adhesive, and about five minutes beyond that to allow the sticky stuff to cure to the proper consistency. Then I carefully pressed each breast form into place, smoothed out the thin flange.
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