Her Jesus. Not a casual conversation anymore. The litany repeats in her head while she packs her things into her shoulder bag. She moves slowly. She can feel the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She looks up at you standing beside the table. Okay, not just nerves, she admits when a tendril of heat curls around the fluttering. You hold out your hand. She looks at it, looks at you.
from Lush Stories - latest Sex Stories https://ift.tt/3dmCqaT
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