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For a while, he just sat there, tears streaming down his face. Gillen wanted to cry, too. Lin. Bouf. It was such a waste – and it was all her fault. She knew trouble was coming; she’d sensed it. If she had sent two scouts instead of one. If she’d been faster, come to Lin’s aid, she might have forestalled this death.“She has an eight-year-old son,” Myllyn said softly, his hand holding Lin’s; he’d removed both of their gauntlets. “She was going to sponsor him as a squire; her husbands were both dead set against it. They said that they worried enough when she was off on crown business – they didn’t want to worry over their only son as well. I promised them I’d look after her.”Myllyn’s use of year rather than season took Gillen’s weary mind down a tangent. She had forgotten Myllyn was the third son of a duke; his use of the word ‘year’ brought it back to her. The two words meant the same thing in context – the generic use of the word season meant a year – but it demonstrated a difference. Then the orgasmic sensation started to build, from my stomach to my toes, I wrapped her panties over the tip of my cock, just in time as I started to pump my cum, the first ribbons landing on the crotch of her panties, where her pussy had been only a short time before.I woke the following morning her panties still in my hand. “Mark, hurry up, the bus will be here soon, and before you go, will you put all the clothes in the hamper in to the machine”I got home early that afternoon, it was a short day for freshmen in our high school, and at the door I was greeted by the guy from UPS with mom’s package. She got home a little after six, with a pizza for the two of us. When we were half way through the pizza, I remembered her delivery, she was amazed that next day delivery had actually meant next day. We finished the food and she opened the parcel, pulling the jeans out first.“Will they fit?” she asked.“Try them on then you’ll know mom”She laughed at me, she slipped her shoes off, she was.
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