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When we reached her driveway I pulled in and put my car in park. I turned to look at her as she continued to talk. I imagined her lips and tongue working on my cock while I played with those firm tits. I hoped my sunglasses were hiding where my eyes kept going, but I figured she was too into her speech to care much that I was inspecting the goods.Suddenly she stopped speaking and kissed me full on the mouth. Her tongue probed and I found myself kissing her back. She broke the kiss and said "That's for looking at me like a man should look at a woman. Dale doesn't see me that way anymore and most people around town only see what I do, not what I am."I didn't know what to say. For a moment I contemplated playing dumb, but she'd obviously been paying better attention to what I was doing than I thought. The whole thing was surreal. Every guy I know has dreamed of fucking Elise Meyer, but none of them would ever actually do it."I've always thought you were a good looking woman Mrs. Meyer,". Just a quick stroke to establish where the eye would be led. Six women focused on the reclining nude. The nude with her eyes fixed on me. Two unnoticed in the background shared a kiss. When the stunning vocals of “The Resurrection” in the last movement pulled at me, I could feel Sandra pulling the comb through Kate’s hair, loving every strand it touched. There were only highlights scattered around the paper. The pencil sketch beneath was beginning to disappear.Grieg, Symphony in C Minor. The room began to take shape. It was not what I expected. I thought it would be a dark medieval castle. Torches would cast deep shadows. But instead I found a Parisian lady’s boudoir, pre-World War II. The men were off preparing for conflict—negligent of the women they would leave behind. The ladies entertained themselves in the rooms of Mademoiselle Katarina—a decadent 1930s slumber party. A fire burned in the grate casting shadows where the light of a lone lamp did not reach. Cinnamon, crimson, and.
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