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She smiled. Was it the fact that she and April had not screwed for a few months that made the girl seem so attractive? Or maybe even the fact that Laura had seen her wantonly screwing some strange (and wildly, exotically lovely, in Laura's recollection) girl in Rhonda's office? Whatever it was, April, as she inched her way around the door jamb and into Laura's office, looked delicious.As usual, it wasn't what she was wearing since April was a 'sensible' dresser. She wore a boxy brown skirt and a nondescript green blouse. Laura decided very quickly that it was her demure manner, her quiet, soft presence, contrasted with the truth Laura actually knew about her, that she could be smoldering and relentless in bed, that behind her soft, innocent eyes was a stark willingness to go for the money, and to fuck you as hard and hungrily as the moment required. She had been so resistant when Laura had first tried to seduce her, and now look at her: dragging some lovely young creature into. On accident her hand drifted between her legs, where her pale, red tufted crotch still buzzed with arousal. She moaned and shuddered under the touch. It’s been so long since I was able to… Growing up with three older sisters, Misty had learned everything pretty quickly. Including how to relieve the tension and heat between her legs when it started coming around. The last time had been a week ago, maybe more. I don’t have any privacy to actually do it… But her fingers danced just above her belly button, clasped and trembling. She was losing the battle faster than she realized. She drew her hands up to her mouth and shook, hoping that the feeling of butterflies and pleasure would pass. On the way up she brushed her petite breasts and her wrist brushed one, causing another quick burst of pleasure. She sighed and gave in, placing one hand against the shower wall and wincing at the cold tile. She leaned her shoulders against it and whimpered as her fingers caressed her breast. The hand.
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"I just want to have a go now before I lose my sense of humour."I find the expression 'he or she throws like a girl' pretty offensive, but whoever came up with it was probably watching me throw at the time. In my defence, I spent most of my childhood reading books, not playing cricket or softball or skipping stones on a pond. Rather than enduring the crowing from the boys that would surely come if I tried to throw over-arm, I looped a gentle under-arm lob in Mr Mitchell's direction and I almost got him. The look on his face was in some ways better than a bullseye; he braced for the direct hit, but it just dipped at the last moment and hit the chest of the painted clown to a cry of "O-o-o-h" from the crowd of onlookers."A bit more pepper on the next one, Jeannie," he teased, obviously trying to goad me into a rash throw that would surely spray wide."Just finding my range, Mr Mitchell," I called, still using his surname in the presence of the kids. "Hold your breath for the real one!"I.

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