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I could see her nipples, tiny and dark against the light silhouette of where her bikini top would have rested. They moved with each heavy breath, her breasts a little bigger than mine, seeming to sway as if inviting my attention.God, she was just so gorgeous.My hand reached down, touching myself without any real purpose, lost as platinum blonde hair fell into her eyes, her lips pursed together in a growing groan.She let a cry..."Just like that..."It brought me out of my reverence, making me rush blush-faced towards my room, only to change my mind.I'm one of those women who overdoes the bathroom, so even though I needed the release, I first needed to add the salts and sunflowers mixture (and a dozen other things) in order to really relax. I adjusted the knobs, finding the right temperature between scalding hot and arctic chill only after tweaking the handle back and forth compulsively.I undid my robe, looking at my lily-white skin in the mirror, thinking about tying up my dark hair. Over and over he kisses her hand, with butterfly kisses. He looks down at her face, and smiles still holding her wrist. He sees her breasts through the t-shirt and looks at them. He lays his other hand on her belly, and makes his hand slide towards her breasts. Putting his hand on her breasts he starts playing with her breasts. “Mmm… no bra I feel…” he says to her teasingly. “Especially for you my love, I thought it’s easier to play with his breasts without a bra on.” She replies. “Good thinking baby… what else are you not wearing?” He winks at her. “That’s for you to find out” She winks back to him.He lets go of her wrist, and she wraps her arm around his back. Moving her head closer to his stomach. Upon reaching it, she kisses his abs. He holds her head with his left arm, with his right arm he is holding her. Gently caressing her back. Then when she’s not looking his right hand slides into her sweats. Between her legs he reaches, and feels her lips, no panties. “Mmmm… I love.
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" He seemed less than impressed, with both the room and me.I went over to a drawing that somehow looked vaguely familiar."Did you do that?" I asked."Yes." It looks kind of like Van Gogh's Starry Night," I said."It is," he said. "I copied it from a book." Well how about that," I said, truly impressed. "Got any more like that?" I have lots of them," he said. "My mother says she likes you." Is that so?" I asked. "How do you feel about that?" I don't know." I like your mother too." Well duh," he said. He didn't sound seven. He sounded about thirteen.I thought for a moment about how while this boy sounded older than he was, his mother sounded younger than she was. Interesting."What does that mean?" I asked, wondering what he'd say."How could you not like her?" he asked."You got a point there," I admitted."She says I have to be nice to you." Oh yeah?" I raised my eyebrows. "Tell you what. As long as you don't kick me and stuff, I'd rather you just acted like yourself." How can I act like.

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