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The house was large and well back from the road. Justin parked his car in the drive amid the manicured lawns and neatly pruned trees. A woman, perhaps...in her fifties, answered the door. She was dressed in the same work uniform that Sharon wore. However her tie had been discarded and her collar opened."Yes?" she asked, a little confused and swaying slghtly.A strong whiff of alcohol assailed Justin's nostrils."Is that Justin?" called Sharon from inside the house."I dunno," the woman said, "a. " Okay." The yellow sundress hit the floor without fanfare. I could tell the guy wasn't thrilled, but Rachel looked fine to me! Was she a swimsuit model? Hardly. Her figure wasn't any hourglass, although she wasn't pear-shaped, either. She was a little wide and a little thick and things kind of went from her shoulders to her hips with only minor bulges. She had a bit of a belly, but it wasn't huge and it didn't sag or anything -- it just bulged enough to deeply indent her navel. Her ass just. They urged her on. Eve lifted her hand from the stinking shit, and looked at the soft, brown slime of shit adhering to her palm. The shit was the most offensively crass, vulgar, stinking muck imaginable, but Eve scooped even more of it into her small hand and brought it slowly towards her face. This act which she was about to do for the men, was absolute anathema to her every sense of decency and self-respect, and yet her lustfulness pushed her to do it – she wanted to be the most reviled,. My younger sister is just out of school knickers and into fancier underwear and far more private. The last time she caught me in her room I had her dark green knickers on, she told me to get them off and get out of her room. I did as she said, but I know she saw my cock, as I walked out she let her hand brush my arm. I went back to my room and sat on the bed, a minute later there was a tap on the door, she came in. She said she had just come to say she was sorry for snapping at me, she knew I.

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"Hello." Marley walked cautiously across the room. "Mr. Weinberg?"A raspy voice came through the door in front of her. "Miss Weber?" Yes, sir... Ma...ley Weber." Come in, my dear."She moved to the door, pushed it open, and walked through. "H-Hello, Mr.Weinberg."Arnie Weinberg rose from his chair. He was a heavyset man of some sixty-five years. His grey hair was cut very short, barely longer than hisperpetual two-day beard. His face was as fleshy as the rest of him withbeady gray eyes, a. A lot of me, dissolves against my palate."We're late," I whisper. "I have to let go now."You nod, the gentle pressure of my mouth lingering on the tip of yourfinger...and...(what's that?)...a tiny smudge of pink lipstick carelesslysmeared across the pad. I reach to wipe it off, but you draw away."No," you respond. "Leave it there. I want to remember you, and this, untilwe get home."I blush. Your words penetrate deeper than your wayward digit ever could.I want to be what you need tonight. I need. More

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