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iding over his taut abdomen, to the strange, thick mat
of coppery curls around the base of his penis. I wend my fingers through
them and grip his prick's root. I squeeze. It feels like the hose I use
to rinse the sidewalk in front of the store, heavy with back-pressure,
ready to burst or spurt.
My hand slides lower and to his side. His hips are so strong and
tense! I did that, I know, and knowing it makes me feel powerful and
free and grownup. I squeeze his ass cheek, then the back of his thigh.
My hand comes around to cup his testicles, so full and large in their
tight, wrinkled sack, heavy with semen for -- me?
Yes, for me!
His hands, trembling, are pulling my face gently off his cock. It
looks even larger and more insistent now, and his face is so filled with
lust for me that I nearly have an orgasm.
"Stop?" I croak, unsure.
"Too good, too sweet -- you'll have me cumming in your mouth," he
rasps, laying me back on the bed. "Unless that's what you prefer this
time..."
I take his meaning as he hesitates above me. I shake my head.
"Inside me, plea
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