Perhaps it’s what it lacked as much as what it contained that struck me. There was no pretence, no pleasant veneer; it was a look of lust, pure and ...imple. Not theatrical, not flirty, her eyes just bored into mine with a simple, animal look.When she brought the drinks over the look had gone and I got her talking about some youth group she helped to run. The fun they had had planting an orchard, the chasing of girls by boys, the laughter and the puffing and panting and the removing of sweaters. He kept groaning and moaning about how delicious I tasted and how beautiful I was. I adored it.Then came the magic: he would lift my arms over my head while phuquing me missionary and lick my arm pits. He would pin my arms down at the elbows and lift himself slightly. He would kiss me deep and passionate and then lick my arm pits. Sometime with the tip of his tongue, tickling me and sometimes planting his whole tongue flat on my arm pits and pressing hard. He somehow knew when I had enough. More

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