When I was cooking, I was cooking. We had plenty of time to talk when we sat at the table together and ate what I cooked. It wasn't that he wasn't wel...ome in my kitchen, it was more like he didn't belong. Just like I didn't belong in his operating room.It was something that just kind of evolved. I think the fact that I messed up what I was making a couple of times because I was paying more attention to our conversation than to my cooking had a lot to do with it. I remember a batch of mashed. Our rhythm was slow at first, but as it proceeded, the thumping and pumping grew stronger and stronger. Our bodies began to move harder and fuck faster. I was groaning and mumbling loudly and was panting with my efforts.Rick's condition was no better than mine; he too was gasping for air. His balls had been drained twice before our copulation, this seemed to have prolonged his ejaculation, and he was still going very strong, probably in a bid to make up for his first early ejaculation.I. More

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