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There was a knock on the door, disrupting my post-coital bliss.
"You know the song, 'Mrs.
My intent to ask you for a blanket and pillow to sleep on the couch went out the window. I couldn't walk away.
Despite the changes in my expected plans, I still anticipated Thanksgiving Day. Chris would be back.
They didn't help this time.
Slower but with no less intensity than before. Each pass had his fingers moving down further until he slipped two between us along his cock and stroked through my pussy from behind.
He'd taught me there was an art to eating pussy. How to squirt.