Meanwhile, one deft tug at the sheet and there was Simon’s shaft in its sweeping, animal rectitude, its tit-starved helmet the size and colour of a ...mall plum. Maybe even, thought Emma with a naughty thrill, the same flavour? She parted her lips, closed her eyes, and, as her right tit underwent its continued somnambulist groping, allowed Simon’s cockhead to enter her mouth. The tip of her tongue met the drizzling opening at its pinnacle and, unsurprisingly, it didn’t taste of plum but rather of. He comes back with a silk tie. I gulp. He ties my hands above my head. I try to free my hands but I know it was a pointless struggle. He kisses me again."Hmmm...Look at this bra. Vincent told me you only wear granny bras. The boring ones. The plain ones with no peek-a-boo. Looking at your bra now, it's definitely not plain. It's all lace and front closure. Are you really trying to get laid?" He says. I just stare at him. He unclips my bra. He takes one of my nipples in his mouth and the other. More

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