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The next day, at breakfast in a shadowy garden facing the sea, we met the family again. Early morning, the milder sunlight and the dewy freshness in the air lured us to new adventures. There he was, bathed in the trembling sunbeams, sitting on a comfortable old chair, his eyes half-closed as if struggling to wake up from a sweet dream, his beautiful brown curls loosely spread over his forehead, in his right hand he held his half-empty coffee in a rather careless manner. A perfect picture of la jeunesse sans soucis. Upon seeing me, he made the gesture of inviting me to sit next to him. My parents, who were eager to integrate into this small society of the seaside resort, seeing that I was about to make friend with this Italian boy, gladly consented. He smiled. His smile seemed to contain such a sweet quality that it melted my heart with its mellifluous air. I felt both excited and embarrassed. There were the differences of race and language. My speech, already tremulant and hard to. Jason’s hands, given her cue, had started doing some exploring of their own. From the concave of her waist they had travelled downwards, taking their time raking gently back up her smooth outer thighs. They’d taken both sides of her torso in one—his thumbs stealing a taste of her abdomen, while on the other side his huge fingers reached right around her slender waist to climb the well-oiled border of her back, daring to explore further towards her spine as they climbed higher. Without a single thought, the two of them found themselves embraced in the warm ocean water, rubbing and massaging each other’s oily skin in the waves. It was almost unrealised that Cassie again had something large twitching up into the warmth of her crotch, right up until she found herself moaning quietly into Jason’s neck. With the timing of the waves pushing her into him, she gyrated her hips forward, sliding back and forth over his huge member like it were the saddle of a mechanical bull. The electricity.
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