When she resurrected her castaway story, maybe Paul would be wearing something like those boxers when she pulled him to shore. That sort of fabric and...all. As the author, she’d know the size of his cock (better word to be found), but as the character, she’d discover this slowly in nursing him back to health, maybe brushing it accidentally at first. She wouldn’t let it hang down, though. When she leaned over to give him a drink from a coconut, he’d see her breasts. To help him sit up, he’d lean. “Oh, Daddy, I think you know exactly what you could do about it if you would only relax. Come on, Daddy, please! I’ll be very good and I’ll stop complaining. What do you say, huh?”Andrew was frustrated. “Emmy, we’ve been through this before. You’re my little girl. Would you please get this bee out of your bonnet?”“Okay, so you’re turning me down again. Where does that leave me, huh? Daddy, you know that Edie and Eddie are pretty much self-sufficient. I mean that in all ways, if you. More

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