At first I thought it was odd to hear my mother talk aboutherself in the third person. Then I realized she thought of herself asClaire Ross. Superwoma... was a masquerade, an identity she had adopted forthe public. "Yes, you--she--does take charge." I giggled. "I wonder what allthe feminists would say if they knew Superwoman was really June Cleaver athome?" They'd probably try to get me to burn my bra. But there is NO WAY that isgoing to happen." She pointed at her ample chest. "I NEED my bra!" . He was kissing my pussy, licking it while his finger slid in and out slowly. I could hear the soft wet sounds of his mouth and feel his face between my thighs. He was eating my cunt gently, taking his time and I wanted it fast, I was going to cum again, and I was begging with my voice breathless and ragged.I came hard, my best one yet, and it was because of his mouth, his kisses. I could feel him lapping at my juices as they ran freely, spilling across his fingers and tongue. I pressed against. More

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