You reach up and grab the back of my head. My hands play with your breast, lightly pinching your nipple. A small amount of fluids leaks out. You feel ...he pleasure of my tongue licking your nipple. I reach between your legs. Gently I press against and rub your clit. You’re already wet. My fingers slide your lips apart and push against the opening of your pussy. “Ohhh…yeah,” you think as you bite your lip. I slide in two fingers. “Ahhh,” you moan, and arch your hips up unconsciously. You are. Danny was her husband, the soldier I'd seen in the bedside picture. He'd been killed in action, probably in Iraq, and Ginny had vowed to honor his life for a year after his death. Did that mean that she would not date? Did she feel guilty about having a good time at the circus? Should I have told her it was not a date? Or was it the kiss the night she'd driven me home?My attempt to kiss her goodnight was a mistake. We would have four more weeks of class, twenty trips to and from class. Somehow,. More

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