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Unerotica: Fly Swatter

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She stalks the room, armed cocked, radar scanning. She sees it settle and snaps the swatter down. Spinning and flailing in frantic pursuit, her next blow finds her partner, tit square. "Oh, babe! I'm sorry, it's that fucking bottle fly..." then stops as she sees a nipple rapidly rising proud beneath the thin tee.  Eye to eye, they each raise a brow. "Stay!" she commands. In a minute

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