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Long shoulder-length hair framed a smooth oval face. She wore a white shirt which indicated 2 nice breasts. A small black skirt wrapped her slim waist...and black stockings encased shapely legs. The effect was immediate, and he tried to seat himself so that the bulge between his legs wouldn’t show. Susan looked at him and smiled knowingly. “I was going to offer you a drink, but I think you need relief. If you don’t I do, I have been waiting for you all day”. Sitting herself beside him she leaned. She had been a terrible mother to him, but how could she explain it to him? How could she tell him that everything that had happened to him lately was because of the pheromones he produced? He would think he was some kind of sexual freak.She remembered how she had been able to withstand the desire to run to him and comfort him, armored in her anger. An anger that was gone now, as he entered her room. How dare he come in here after the things he said to her? How dare he just walk into his. He was going to propose. That was the big secret, the mystery – the cause of all her anxiety. A smile crept across her lips as she eased out of the chair and across the room, carefully turning the brass handle, slipping out into the hall, and locking the door behind her. For over two weeks he had been lying to her. His evasiveness, the distance, the late nights; it could have been anything - or anyone. Carla scowled, her mind replaying the ‘party’ she had been invited to that had showcased the. It was a warm, tingling feeling that seemed now to be happening every time she climbed into the saddle. Emma had begun to delight in the feeling of spreading her legs wide around the warm brown leather of the saddle; the way her thighs were massaged as she galloped through the fields; even the way her blossoming breasts bounced, in rhythm with the pounding of the horse’s gallop. All these combined to make her daily rides a more and more arousing sensual experience. One day she noticed while.
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