As it slid down she asked him to U-turn. He should take them back to the Villa to refresh themselves and change.The restaurant lay below the corniche....It straddled an inlet for boats that had been hewn into the living rock. It went by the un-Italian name of Chez Pierre. The owner was of French origin. The place was the former boathouse of a villa higher up in the hills. It had been enlarged and rebuilt into a modest, but very tasteful restaurant. The entrance was at the top of a few steps. It. She had her hair tied back in a pony tail again, with a red scrunchy holding it in place. She walked past me with that haughty swing of her hips, and her eyes never met mine. My cock was so excited it was standing up like a flagpole, but I tried to act cool.She got up on the treadmill like the last two weeks, dialed up her program, and started off, her hips swinging and her arms pumping. She probably thought we were in for another session like the last two, but I had other plans.The sound. More

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