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

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Perhaps something that touches the inner core? Someone who sees us for who we are and who we long to be. Someone who just knows us, our desires and how to make us respond. Is the person who thinks they are leading ever truly leading at all or being steered? This is one of life's delightful mysteries.Her writing had piqued my interest. That it did made her curious. Could I turn a phrase in a way that touched her being?We arranged to meet, to explore our mutual curiosity more fully.We arranged to wear matching clothes.I was wearing a white Oxford shirt and black slacks. She had a white blouse, black skirt, hose and heels.The colours matched us well.My grey hair blended with the colours. 5'9", 170 pounds, looking like a banker, although one who had a most surprising naughty side.Her red and black hair contrasted nicely with her outfit. The blouse was tight against her breasts, and the dress showcased her hips and ass nicely. The clothes offered a lovely contrast with her skin as well.I. Some days it had seemed like cumming made her want to cum again. Instantly. For hours and hours. And then Master had started withholding the vibrators, forbidding Alicia to touch herself. Master held the vibrator in front of Alicia’s eyes. Forcing her to watch, listen to it buzz. Shiny and metallic. She found it hard to focus on it. The shiny metal seemed to shimmer in the air. It seemed to have no solid surface. ‘You can feel it on your clit, can’t you, slave?’ Master teased. ‘You can feel the long, thick shaft deep inside you. Filling you. Forcing your closer… and closer…’ He told her to remember what it felt like, leaping over that edge, blissfully falling into one orgasm after another. She had to remember… and need it again. Need it so much. Desire it. Ache for it. ‘No — no hands, little slave. Your arms are paralyzed. Remember the vibrator… the humming… The sensation of your pussy flowering open, then tightening around the shaft. So tight! So wet! So good!’ He dangled a sparkly,.
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God knows I needed some fucking fun in my life.So, on that fateful Tuesday, I found myself looking for a running group to join.And fortunately, or unfortunately ... depending on how you look at it, I didn’t find one.What I didn’t expect was that my life was about to change.In college, as I’ve mentioned I was on the track team. I never had the chance to find out if I was good or not, because I was never picked to be in a meet.We did a lot of group runs and the coaches chose the quicker runners to concentrate all the individual coaching on, while the rest of us were just cannon fodder.And truthfully, I never asserted myself or tried very hard. I just liked the sweater you got for being on the team.So that afternoon, as I headed for the park, I had no idea what was in store for me.Bobby and his best friend “Herb,” whose name isn’t Herbert, tagged along. Herb’s given name is Thomas, but people call him Herb, because of the incredible amount of marijuana he smoked, even before it was.

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