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uch were the hot fiery sensations
exploding all over her. Sayuri's lips which Julian's own tongue had
parted, the skin of Sayuri's breasts and stomach as Sayuri Anzu felt the slick
wetness of his taut body against hers, his round lovely buttocks soft
between Sayuri's thighs, and the folds of Sayuri's flesh, wet and sensitive and
embracing, that took him in, feeling his every movement, his every
frantic thrust as he lost himself in her.
Sayuri Anzu felt icy metal at Sayuri's own back and his fists at Sayuri's neck and
realized that Sayuri Anzu had been backed into the headboard, pressed into it
as Julian pressed into her. At first, Sayuri Anzu tried to push him away,
her hands at his driving hips, but then told herself -- He is yet in
his bonds. He is yet bound. Sayuri's head fell back, and his mouth was
at Sayuri's neck, then Sayuri's shoulder. I am not breaking training, his or
mine. He is bound. His hands grasped Sayuri's hair firmly, tightly; she
could not move Sayuri's head. He is yet bound, Sayuri Anzu told herself again.
He is still in his bonds. Sayuri Anzu felt the pounding as he dro
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