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’ ‘No different to the birds we watched yesterday,’ I said. I walked up to the glass, and put my palm flat on the surface. Tim glanced up, and his eyes widened as he saw the black and white shapes purposefully making their way toward us. Their blunt noses bumped against the other side of the glass, and I projected my voice gently into the water. The closest whale moved its head up and down, then we heard its unmistakeable song, a piercing note, rising and falling. The whales drifted away, and I turned to Tim. His mouth was open, and he shook his head. ‘Unbelievable.’ I smiled. ‘Not really. Granted I used one or two of my special abilities, but these creatures are not as far from you as you think…’ We climbed the steps, Tim’s face still thoughtful. When we reached the car, he said, ‘Ria?’ ‘Hmm?’ ‘Is there a limit to what you can show me?’ I thought for a moment. ‘As long as we don’t attract attention, most things are OK.’ I took his hand. ‘But I won’t mock you – there are some things. My daughter moaned, swallowing her futa-teacher’s cum as fast as she could. Some ran down her innocent chin, thick and white. I licked my lips, driving my cock down Pattie’s throat over and over while she sucked and moaned and gurgled.My pussy clenched. My orgasm swelled so fast as I watched Ms. Marcie use my little girl as her slut. I watched my daughter gulp down all of her futa-teacher’s cum like a little schoolgirl-whore. My body shuddered.My cum erupted into Pattie’s mouth.The pleasure shot straight to my mind every time my cock fired jizz into the Black girl’s mouth. She gulped it down with such hungry passion, as much a whore as her mother. I groaned, my pussy spasming, my panties sodden after absorbing so much cream this morning.“Damn,” I panted as she swallowed the last blast. “You have been teaching these girls some naughty things.”“I have,” grinned Ms. Marcie while my daughter licked and fluttered her tongue against the futa-teacher’s big, thick girl-dick. “And your.
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Two little bikinis and a beach wrap followed him into the bag. One of her non-iron long dresses followed, for dinner out on Saturday night, and a day-dress and three bra-and-panties sets. Her wash-bag went in next, and cigarettes, a pack of condoms, a bottle of whisky and a bottle of wine, and her smart phone and charger. She checked the time; all done by three-fifty. At four pm she swung her car out of the garage and onto the road. By four-fifteen she was on the freeway and she knew that barring traffic snarls she’d be checking into her apartment on the beach by seven. She made good time and was there by six-fifty. Two hours before Terry Hour. That was good. On the drive down she’d recalled her conversation earlier that day with a girlfriend who had called to ask her out for drinks that evening. Em had said she couldn’t because she was going away for the weekend. Her girlfriend had demanded all the details and Em had told her. Her girlfriend, an old work colleague, had told her she.

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