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I had always been ticklish and couldn’t help but giggle. In between kisses, he said, “I love your laugh, but I want to hear you moan,” he said, looking up at me mischievously. He started to kiss my inner thighs and on top of my panties and I moaned in pleasure. “Mm, that’s more like it.” He chuckled. He pulled my panties down to my ankles and I kicked them on to the floor. He went straight to my clit, teasing it with his tongue. “Ohh! Yes!” I moaned in a slight whisper. I was feeling so much. She moaned with each squeeze, and she continued to gasp. ‘Feels . . . It feels . . . so perfect!’ she whispered as she kissed me really hard. A few seconds later she taught me the difference between screwing and fucking. I reached up and rubbed Mary’s breasts as she twisted her hips from side to side, crushing our public hair between our bodies. She bent her head back, and she held her breath. She twisted left, then paused, then right and paused again. She repeated these motions several more. Then two. I continued in this pattern, gradually increasing in speed and intensity with her moans. Building higher and higher, closer and closer, until finally, with a scream of pleasure, she climaxed. I watched, satisfied, as her now-drenched pussy clenched again and again while her body shook. ‘That’s one,’ I declared and rose to my feet. She grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me in, breathless, for a passionate kiss. Our tongues reacquainted and I lifted her off the table back onto the. The sorting table had one pile for not-dry-enough, and more than half the weight there had been a bunch of white sweat shirts that Bill wore. These went into one last dryer load. Then she went to folding sheets. Occasionally, that revealed some clothes hidden in the tangles. She was done, however, soon after the last dryer was. She took upstairs a laundry bag -- these had been washed as well -- each of her clothes, Val’s clothes, and Gayle’s clothes. She dumped the clothes on her bed and on.
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