My eyes traveled further down her body, to her so slim tummy and waist. She was not much wider their than one of my strong legs, thinner in a way, her...narrow depth. As she knelt, squatting, working my cock, her hips flared out, curving, feminine, tanned, oily. Her little legs spread, I marveled at how her thighs tapered thinner as they rose to her little crotch, her fingers now working her pussy quickly.“Please...” I begged, preying she would ignore me. “Please stop, Jenni.” Of course, my. He was confident but not arrogant; every writer needed an editor. He would make as clean a copy as possible, and he knew someone would go at it with scissors, if not shears, but damn it--he'd make them work to cut anything. Emma was infiltrating the novel. He couldn't help it. He shook his head and smiled at himself. She wasn't just finding her way into the novel, but into his life, into him. Some days it was torture to tear himself away to write when he wanted to be with her. He rubbed his. More

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