"The same," I says. What a tease. She proceeded to get up off her chair, swing a leg over his lap and plant her pants-clad crotch on his own. You know by now my grammar is far from perfect, well neither am I. I do wish you like my story though. A second later, sound blared from her speakers, the slap of flesh on flesh, the moans of a woman being given what she deserves. I pedaled my feet against the floor, rolling my office chair across the room to sit beside her. Without even thinking about it, we slipped our hands into each other’s pants, and slid our fingers where they belonged. “No Johnny Sins this time, huh?” I laughed breathily, “You done with your bald guy fetish?” “I’m just shelving it for now.” She smirked, her face flushing with arousal.

Her bush was trimmed tight; her bare, wet pussy lips were exposed for Lisa and me to see. She couldn't tell him she didn't want to be this way. She mumbled something, grabbed a fishing pole, and then found a rock to hide behind. While ducked down I noted that she was wearing pink high heels, pink sheer nylons, and a pink short skirt. “Ha! She reaches her other hand into Margaret's skirt, grabbing a literal handful of her highly customized fat lewd cunt-front, digging her nails into the flesh. “A goddess knows how to read her lover's deepest desires…and she will cater to them in her preferred method.” She smiles at my comment. "Up here dad" she called back from her bedroom and ran a hand through her soft hair as she waited for him nervously. “Good, that’s wonderful. Dakota, I must trust that you won’t make John’s life a hell. He’s got to learn your job before you have our baby,” I say to her. “Of course, Daddy,” she replies. “Mom, Jill and I were kind of kicking around an idea that we want to at least have you think about,” I say nervous as all hell. “Jill and I were wondering what you might think about moving out here and selling your home in the Hamptons,” I say to her. “Well, it’s about time you offered, I was getting tired of waiting for the invite,” Mom scolds me. “Wait, what?” I’m a bit stunned at her answer. “Look Dear, the Hampton house was nice, but it was Bob’s house.

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