Her Read Hair draped over her neck, the same porcelain neck that was bundled up in a grey scraf and a deep red leather jacket. She had no makeup on; i... would only be ugly icing on her skin and would offer no protection to the Emerald City’s perpetual winter. There was little need for it though: her freckles speckled her face just enough to give the illusion of a touch of makeup. And her lips were naturally a little red. Her tight leather pants were covering long johns, and were tucked into her. I took her hands away and told her to continue breathing normal. She tried, but four breaths later she took a deep breath and held it again. I knew she couldn't hold it so I immediately went back to her clitoris and helped her along with some faster strokes to give her some release. She started to shake, her legs came back together, her hips lifted off the table her fingers digging deeper into her tummy just above her mound. A genuine toe curling bomb was about to explode. Marilyn didn't know. More

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