He always climbed on me, squeezed my boobs as though they were made of maize flour, pumped my clit like a mad horse, exploded into me and slept snorin... like a sick donkey.”“So, what do you like?” I asked her while my hands started lifting her nightie upwards. Her thighs weren’t bad either as they shined in the dim light inside the room.“I do have fantasies, but he is so conventional. I resorted to masturbating.” She laughed uncontrollably. “So, you play with your clit. Don’t you?” I asked. She smiled as I kissed the top of her head, nuzzling my nose into her dark hair. “Turn that off. Come talk to me while I’m cooking.”“Okay.” She followed me into the kitchen, taking a seat at the wide island. I tore off a paper towel and began patting dry the thick, fat scallops on the butcher’s block. Violet’s eyes grew wider. “Oh, yum.” She rested her elbows on the black granite of the island and placed her chin in her hands, happily watching me work.“Have you thought about moving up your. More

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