“Yes, keep going,” he began to search for my clit in the darkness.My pussy was aching for his fingers to enter. He smelled like cigarettes and col...gne which was an interesting mix, but at least his fingers were as talented at playing with my pussy as they were strumming his guitar. He had great arms, probably since he was a drummer too. He lifted me back up onto the desk as I was slipping off.“I soap up my pussy, there’s bubbles everywhere…I rub my clit and feel how I’m dripping wet, soaking,. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Rose answered wearing a pink ruched turban, a black and white cheetah print moo-moo, and slippers.She walked with the assistance of a cane. “Rose? I’m Angie Evans.”“Yes, dear! Come in. Have a seat,” the host said. “Would you like some tea?”“No, thank you! I’m okay. This is for you.”Rose sat down and took the box. She opened it slowly. Tears welled in her eyes when she saw the locket. He aged hands fumbled with it for a moment until she got it. More

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