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A nice girl with milky white skin, big boobs, giving head. She was wearing a skimpy red dress.

He was about Dad’s age but I found him quite appealing. The few times our families socialized, he was always the affable good host, but his congeniality was balanced with a reserve that piqued my curiosity.The evening when I had worn a new pair of too-high heels to one of the Westons’ summer parties and stupidly tripped while navigating the stairs, a pair of strong arms kept me from tottering to the floor.“Careful, Fiona.” Mr. Weston’s authoritative voice was much closer than it had ever been and I realized he was the one who'd caught me and was now guiding me back to my feet. “Are you all right?”From somewhere in the rubble of my demolished vanity, I nodded mutely.“That was a close call,” he winked. His gaze searched my reddened face and I could smell the crisp scent of his aftershave. “Come on, let’s get you some juice.”He guided me to the refreshment table, an arm curled protectively around my waist as if I might take another tumble, then ladled out a cup of punch I could hardly. Milking and massaging. Your tongue in my ears showing a preview of what is to come when darkness falls.2 hours and with adequate tasty sampling, we hit the road again, dropped by the stable, where my friend showed us the horses. And you saw me taking a bag from the manager.It was a good thing the car always had an extra pair of your clothes. Riding a horse was exhilarating. You had your favourite. And was proud to show off your skills as I sat from a distance in admiration.It was getting dark. We bid farewell to the beauties. We were back in the flat an hour later. Waiting to get behind closed doors.I closed the door, you unzipped your dress, and I sat down on the sofa. You knelt on the ground. You took off my socks, pants. Lit the candles, around the sofa and started to blow me on all four. I looked at the clock, it was 8, which meant at 8.15 when the candles were warm enough – the flat end would go into your ass, while one end was still burning. At 8.30 the inverted electric.
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