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His expression was soft and his cheeks blushing but still looking, searching her blue eyes for some sort of acceptance. ‘No I am not seeing or marrying anyone, you know my wife died ten years ago. I’d never bothered to look for anyone else. I wear these panties because they make me feel good. They belonged to Lorna, I can’t bear to throw them away. I hope you can understand, and I hope you don’t think I’m some sick pervert. It’s just the way I am.’ Not married was all she needed to hear, her breath finally released and she felt her heart flutter. And oddly, something else began to flutter as well, upon his revelation that he enjoyed womens underwear. ‘Oh no Ricky, I’m sorry. I don’t think you are sick in anyway. You must miss your wife so much. It’s only natural to want to keep a memory of her alive.’ Her deep breaths made her chest rise and fall, once again drawing attention to her large fleshy mounds. Rick gazed down, mesmerised by her loveliness and sexuality. And she shook so. .she was a real bitch, so I never felt guilty about having sex with him......I thought, if you only knew how often I've sucked his dick here, and how often he's fucked me in this place......Yeah, and she was probably jealous when she saw your tits and your figure!Yeah, I guess she probably was....she thought she was all that too, but she wasn't anything special....she wasn't bad looking really, but she was pretty flat chested and she didn't have much of a bod either...I remember the day I met her too, it was in the summer, and I had one of my little tube tops on with my jean vest and shorts and high heels, and I noticed her giving me a dirty look a couple times....basically, she was just a bitch with no shape and no tits....I guess she was jealous of my bod...she sure didn't have any tits or anything, and thats probably why he went for me......and as far as I know she never knew that he was having sex with me on the side, and I doubt she ever did either, she didn't work there, and I.
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No man had ever sucked her there before, and it was a pleasure she felt peculiar about enjoying. But who was it? There was no light at all in the dark store-room, no silhouetted figures, nothing but a frightening absence of sight. “Tracey. Is that you?” Sharon wondered, thinking that her friend had perhaps mistaken her for Buttercup. “You what?” answered Tracey in a sleepy voice. “What you want?” “Are you fucking licking me?” “What the fuck do you think? I’m your mate, not your fucking whatsit.” Sharon leaned up and groped at the head of whoever’s head it was between her legs, secretly hoping that it was Buttercup (though why she wasn’t sure). “Ooh! That hurt! That’s my eye!” shrieked Sweetness. “What the fuck are you doing?” “Don’t you like it?” “Don’t fucking ask! Just get the fuck off me!” Sharon yelled into the dark. A match was struck, and a candle lit. Joy stood up in front of them, with a strange leer. “Don’t you like my darling Sweetness?” She asked with amusement. “I’m no.

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