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”“I kind of like it...” said Greta quietly.Hans didn’t hear her, and continued.“Do you really think she can help us break into modeling? What does the art world have to do with the modeling world, anyhow?”“Important people know each other” answered Greta.She looked back at the kitchen doorway just as Wendy reappeared through it, carrying two plates over to the brother and sister.Atop her left hand was a charming, artisanal little candied gingerbread house, which she handed to Hans. It seemed to. ” I reached in the bedside drawer, pulled out the tube of K-Y and put a big glob of it in my hole. Then I straddled his torso, took hold of his cock and lowered myself onto it in one long, slow motion. He tried to thrust into me from below, but he was tied too tightly to gain the needed leverage. I decided it was time to gratify his wish, I started riding the pony, but we hadn’t gone one furlong before he shot into me, gasping and sobbing with release. Fully five minutes passed before his cock. She had said that she made this journey, or one like it, at least once or twice a month. I wondered what she was feeling. She must have felt the weight of my gaze, for she looked up and smiled reassuringly at me. It made me feel both better and worse at the same time. Here I was, starting to wallow in self-pity when she, who was headed for who-knows-what in ten minutes time, naked and wearing his chains, still took time to try and reassure me. I took a deep breath and resolved to do better. I. I thought I could just about see the tops of her stockings, and I couldn’t resist it any longer. I had to confirm it, to see it clearly. I turned my head and started down at her thighs. Yes! Yes! She was wearing some kind of thigh-high jobs, and everything beyond that was naked skin! And it was Miss Frobisher’s naked skin, no less. Some animal part of my brain must have taken over and opened the sluice gates for all the blood in my veins to flow straight to my cock. I think I felt stiffer than.
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