“Will you marry me, Harriet?” That he did not kneel or do all the theatrics made the proposal even more sincere and pure. “Give me your hand.”...He must have bought it when they stopped days ago in Gretna Green for luncheon.She did not, instead, she lifted it to line his jaw, meeting his eager gaze with a pensive one. “I cannot marry you, Samuel.” And watched as deep disappointment covered his expression.“Of course you can. You’re free, so am I.” A scholar’s logic would be irrefutable, were it. I work through every writhing, squirting combo – Bikini-Ghost applauding through it all – till the whole Quartet graces the bed again (the ebony satin one), a squirming mass of fuck-flesh, feeding off each other’s lust and on my cum.Check them… Random lay. Faltering good-girl. Off-limits student. Partner’s venial girl-pal. All of them I might have fucked. Tonight – in this nether nirvana – I have done, without a smidge of conscience to compromise my fun. So that’s what that feels like. Wanking. More

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