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Anne prepares for proper presentation and her daily intimate inspection followed by her masturbation.Anne next kneels between my legs and looks at me. She waits for my instructions how to make me orgasm.Anne's feelings are mixed. She feels very humiliated coming on my orders and being always on camera!Anne also wonders how may guys or girls will masturbate, watching her hot footage. Perhaps hundreds?Anne never dreamt of a career as a porn-star. She wishes she had been wiser with this Professor Peter.Anne actually starts to long to perform some of her secret sexy foxy fantasies with Petra and Peter.Anne is not allowed to touch her love lips without written permission of pervert Poet Professor Peter.Anne secretly discovers how she still can make herself wet and warm with cunning cunny contractions!Anne wishes she never lied to Peter about her and this 'thick-neck', as he calls her former friend.Anne regrets now her lighthearted foolishness and underestimating the real qualities of Poet. It only made everything they felt much more intense and fulfilling, Momma and Johnny had earned it. This is what love is about, no? What else has meaning without it? Nothing.Like so many nights before, I took my usual place in the darkened hallway outside Momma and Johnny's room, secretly taking great pleasure in watching them make love to one an other. Drawn to them like a moth to a flame. I now bring my own jelly cock to assist me (my vibrator would make far too much noise, dammit), but I still struggle not to scream out loud. I'm now wearing Momma's black satin teddy, fishnet stockings with matching high heels, pretending that it's me Johnny is showering with affection, to try to imagine what it must truly feel like. God help me, I want to be her! Their love making had so many levels of complexity and nuance, it was like watching two beautiful artists practicing their craft. Not only refining the basic scope of their dance, they kept adding new things to their pallet of.
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.. do you want to go do it again?”“You mean smoke?” I clarified.Alana nodded expectantly. “I have some.”“Oh, you mean, like, now?”Another nod.“Uh ... sure.”She scanned the area and then hopped up in the pool at her feet. “Let’s cross the stream. People walk the trail here all the time ... Actually, I know a better spot. Come on!”I grabbed my fishing pole and followed Alana out into the shallow rapids. She carried her sneakers in one hand, using her other arm for balance.“Woo, it’s cold!” she cried, as the water ascended past her knees.Her cutoff jean shorts were quite short, so there was still a ways to go before she’d have to worry about getting wet. I watched as she easily found her footing under the surface. Sometimes the stones I stepped on were uncomfortable through my water shoes, so I marveled at her poise, given that she was barefoot.“Don’t the rocks hurt your feet?” I asked.“Not really. It’s a matter of balance and grace,” she answered. “You just have to keep moving! Don’t.

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