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After a while Katie couldn't take it anymore, "I need you both to fuck me right now. John fuck my pussy and Dave I want you to fuck my ass". John pulled out of me, and got up, I stood up making room on the couch. John laid down on it, and then Katie straddled him, and slide down onto his cock. It was a tight fight, even with how wet she was and all the lube. He was really stretching her out. She started to work her ass up and down, fucking John, while I put lube on my dick. Putting one leg up on the couch behind her, I leaned down, finding her asshole with the tip of my dick, started to slide into her tight little ass. It took some working, but I finally slide into her ass. With John filling up her pussy it made it her asshole extra tight and vise versa for John once I slide all the way into her ass, Katie had a huge orgasm. Cumming all over John's dick. Then we both started thrusting inside of her. Slowly increasing our tempo. I could feel John's dick inside her pussy sliding up and. "Butgood seamstresses do not like to be rushed, and I want to stay on thegood side of this one." Dick for his part offered the opinion that hismum had been a seamstress and he had always been proud of her work soplease be kind to this one for his mum's sake."Thank the Lord you won't have to speak in your role as the doll, boy,"the doctor exclaimed. "Your uncouth accent would be jarring coming fromher delicate lips."Dick let his friend ignore him during those ensuing weeks; she neededtime to say her farewells to Dorothea. Once Dick took over that role, thedoll would have to vanish forever.The snows were beginning to melt by this time, so the two children wentout after sunset to survey the garden for a suitable burial plot forDorothea. "Her body is just cloth and sawdust and plaster" Dot declared,as she sniffled back her tears, "and she could just be crushed and thenburnt, but I could not bear it. I would dream of her burning up likethat. So we shall bury her like a decent Christian,.
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They treated me very well. Mrs. Foster was happy to cook and clean for the family every day while Mr. Foster, now retired, sat around reading his newspaper and smoking his pipe. I sat all day long on the sofa devouring novels I had brought over from Europe. We made quite the old-fashioned family in many ways, but I knew it couldn’t last forever. Today was Christmas day. Mrs. Foster had invited a couple to dinner that she and Mr. Foster had known for many years, and a friend that they called Uncle Joe. Joe wasn’t really an uncle, at least not to them. He was Mrs. Foster’s sister’s boyfriend, although many years younger than her, and he had been coming to Christmas dinner for the last eight or nine years since Mrs. Foster’s sister, Mary, had died in a tragic accident on a ski lift. I had met Joe once before while we were touring the region. He lived in an isolated cabin on the side of a nearby mountain. We had stopped at his place for a couple of hours for refreshments and he had asked.

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