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Her tongue was the best I ever tasted. My sexual aroma could no longer be in my hand when she reciprocated back. She had the yummiest tongue I could have ever tasted. My upper layer of the tongue was playing with her lower layer of the tongue.With her messy hairs, I moved down to her collar neck and started tasting her. My jaan Shru groaned and gasped with arousal. I knew that her neck portion was her weakness. So I made sure that I show my skills over there. I extended my long licks over her neck with an extra topping of placing my lip and rolling my tongue from inside.So that her inner sex version reveals out. She was a hell of a sexual volcano. Her skin had a taste like an ice cream which could make any mouth water. She took off her top so I decided to taste her skin entirely. She had the most wonderful tits which I easily grabbed with my hand, small, cute and spongy.Her tits were so amazing. I had never seen such tits in my life. They were tight to grab, easy to hold and spongy. Presley felt bad, somewhere deep in the part of her brain that was still registering her surroundings she wondered if she should not be in a worse state than Gloria, should she not be in a state of devastation. But the tears would not come and as the flames licked and flared around her father’s coffin she felt a deep ache begin to grow within her body. They stood for some time, watching the coffin burn, this was all that remained of Presley’s father bar his legacy and with that Presley had, by all intents and purposes by right of the new order, been consoled. As the flames grow smaller, gently smoldering in the depths of the furnace Presley becomes slightly more aware of herself, as if being woken from a dream that started the day of her father’s passing, only now she stands alone. The black dress she wears covers her almost completely, material pinched in tight around the neck, waist and wrists, binding her body tightly like a cage as her arms curve around her waist, hugging herself.
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