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Deep down, I knew that such protestations would be futile at best and dishonest at worst. Instead, my eyes dropped below her desk once more and fixated on the slowly swinging shoe that hung from her foot; the curve of her arch, the perplexing softness of her sole flashing into view as her foot dipped slowly up and down.I felt my body moving, my vantage point shifting until it felt external and remote, becoming a casual observer of my own sordid submission. I slipped forwards from the chair to my knees, scarcely able to believe that I was doing this, barely understanding the myriad thoughts and feelings that were running through my mind. An insistent throb rose between my legs, a drumbeat of novel desire that thrilled and confused me with every deep pulse. I glanced up at her and our eyes met, an electric spark of connection passing between us as she held her foot out towards me. She nodded and smiled, then pointed downwards again; that lazy, expectant gesture that I found so. “Las’s cock, Lasla.”“Mmm, your cock, brother!” she moaned, squeezing her twat around my thrusting dick. “That’s perfect. Just ram that big shaft into me.”“And when are you going to ram it into me?” Princess Lavhi asked.“Soon,” I growled, thrusting away hard at my sister’s cunt.The incestuous pleasure rushed down my shaft from this wonderful moment. I groaned, the heat rushing through my body. I pumped away hard and fast, my balls drinking in all the friction. I would pump so much spunk into my sister.I would just flood her with so much passion.She would be dripping with cum. It would be leaking out of her. That would be great. I groaned, pumping away at her. I fucked her with passion. I slammed to the hilt in her. I groaned, my cock aching beneath the delight of her cunt.I plowed into my sister hard and fast. I loved every moment of burying into her. I savored her snatch while my mother and Nephi devoured the rakshasa’s pussy. They feasted on princess cunt with hunger.“Gods, those.
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I’m more like, ‘impossible’ to get … Dearest heart.’ ‘Well, I dunno, I haven’t seen you together all day, until now’ complained Barry, perhaps dawning on him that if he had known this was going to happen he could have concentrated on one of the other bridesmaids, like the young blond one, she had to be over 18, surely. ‘Complete professional wedding photographer, rule number one: never get caught snogging the maid of honour on the job. But the bride and groom have gone, I have just finished work and putting my cameras in the van, so we can get that little rule out of the way in a trice,’ said the smiling junior photographer, still with his damn arm round the damn pretty maid of honour. ‘Wha’bout the ring?’ hah, hah! slurred the disappointed used-car ace salesman, there’s no ring on her finger, I notice these things, so they must be playing me for a fool. ‘The ring?’ the photographer enquired with crinkled brow. ‘Yeah, she ain’t wearing one.’ Smart move, Barry, the maid’s now yours.

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