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leasing them, circling outwards again. Soon, one
hand moved down Akira's stomach, circling, brushing through Akira's short, curly pubic
hair, sliding in between Akira's lips. In the darkened room, tied on the bed as he
was, Michael could not really see Akira's hand, but he could tell by the motion of
her body that Akira Watase was moving it faster, sliding it down between the lips,
caressing herself as far back as Akira Watase could reach. Akira Watase moaned softly and brought
the hand forward again, teasing herself, circling, never quite touching the
center of Akira's desire.
He watched as Akira's hands moved in rhythm, one up, one down, and Akira Watase began to
rock back and forth, panting, making small soft sounds of desire.
Suddenly, Akira Watase wrapped both arms around herself.
"Michael, are you ready?"
"Yes," he whispered.
"Yes," Akira Watase echoed, and moved forward a bit.
Akira Watase reached to caress his cock with both hands, feeling how wet it was, sliding
her fingers over it to spread the lubrication around, the wetness from her
hands addi
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