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Derrick laughed at the situation he and Bert had justbeen in. He pushed the skirt up high enough to rub Bert's bare thighabove his stocking. As his fingers approached the juncture of Bert'slegs, the helpless husband protested that he didn't want to be touchedthere.The swarthy man snickered. "You are so funny, babe. I mean, you suckedme off so good it would make a whore blush. You were loving it. And justnow you were riding my cock like you couldn't live without it, right whileyour cousin and Shirl were in the room." He playfully nibbled the fauxfemale's neck. "You are such a freak for it. But I can't even touch yourcherry spot. I'm definitely thinking that you're one of those submissivetypes. Hmmm? Fifty shade of tie me up and spank me? Am I right or am Iright?"Just then Derrick pressed his hands into the cushions of the sofa andraised his hips several inches, easily lifting and lowering himself adozen times. Bert was overcome by how possessed it made him feel. . He stuck out his tongue to have a taste, and proceeded to lick from above her belly button to the middle of her breastplate. Her body grew stiff in response to this, and her throat let loose a tiny whimper. He then began to taste her neck and then the side of her face. She pressed the opposite side of her face as far into the mattress frame as possible, but her muffled cries of shock and disapproval were becoming harder and harder for her to repress. He looked straight into her eyes, which were still shut. Jaws still clenched. He knew the moment had come. He relocated his head to her vagina, and without hesitation kissed her slit. When his lips were fully smothering her vagina, he moved his tongue up and down her slit and tasted every inch of her femininity, eliciting from the small girl the first of many moans this night would bring. He sucked on her clitoris and moved his tongue over it, again and again. He could feel her trying to trash about, but her restraints were.
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From inside Phuket Thai, a restaurant in Mililani Town Center. It was on a school day afternoon. Groups of high school students wandered past in their cliques. The trades were blowing through the square, occasionally forcing everyone to grab their hats. His attention focused upon two young guys, about sixteen or seventeen, wearing floppy shorts, jerseys, mostly black, and ball caps of one team or another, perched at precarious, but studied, angles on their heads. What attracted his attention was their eyes. He watched as a couple of pretty high school girls walked past the duo. Their heads swiveled and their eyes followed with hard, calculating looks. He sighed, things were not the same as they used to be. He had seen these looks before. To his mind, it seemed absurd, the shorts, the jerseys, the hats, they were almost comical. But, in reality, they reflected a deadly serious situation. The eyes told the story. His son had once told him that things were difficult for a young hapa in.

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