She no longer needed the pictures. She could see Billie in her mind’s eye. The blonde girl alternated between lapping at Tiffany’s pussy and licki...g Brett’s sweet, hard cock as it thrust into her.A small moan rose up in Tiffany’s throat. She pressed her lips tightly shut, stifling the sounds of her pleasure. Her body tensed. Her hands worked more urgently—coaxing her body, pleading for release.Just. A little. More.She gasped. Shuddered. Her breathing was ragged—her legs tight against the. Occasionally, when we were alone. Linda would call me by my femme name, ordiscuss the finer points of what childhood was like for a little girl in the1930's. She often told me she wished we had met as kids, and constructedelaborate fantasies of our growing up next door to each other, girlfriendstogether through thick and thin.But when we came back to the real world, it all came crashing down. For allher understanding, for all her love, what Linda wanted most out of life wasto be a traditional. More

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