Katja pressed a slippery fingertip against him, circling the tight pink bud. Gently. Slowly. Softly. Waiting for that murmured surrender. A willing a...d eager acceptance was inevitable, it would come to fruition in the petal like flowering of anal muscle beneath her fingertip.Like Eve’s forbidden fruit, the blossoming taste of dark pleasure would prove impossible for Arran to resist. Eventually they all succumbed to temptation, but the transient instant, that moment of surrender never failed to. “The touch directly to the vagina obviously should encounter moistness,” I explained, “However a touch to the hand quite possibly should not.”“Then you need a whore sir, not a bride,” she declared.“How dashed perceptive of you my dear Miss Loveridge,” I agreed.She nodded “For myself I seek a manly man, a stallion, a real man, someone to sweep me off my feet whenever he feels the inclination, certainly not some perfumed ponce who ravishes chamber maids all week and serves his wife only on a. More

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