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Emmi's Augen weiteten sich und sie lief schnell zu der versteckten Falltür im Wohnzimmer, die unter den Boden der Hütte führte. Gerade noch rechtzeitig, denn Sekunden später hörte sie einen der Männer sagen: "Okay, Rattikarl. Bodycheck!"Ein lauter Knall und etwas, dass sich anhörte wie zu Boden fallende Holzsplitter. Emilia hielt sich den Mund zu, doch sogar von hier konnte sie die kalte Winterluft spüren, die jetzt durch die offene Tür ins Haus strömte. "Ha, Kinderspiel." Schritte, die näher kamen verrieten ihr, dass die Männer nun direkt über ihr waren. "Hey, hier brennt Feuer im Kamin!", rief einer und alarmierte damit auch die anderen. "Scheiße, hier muss vor kurzem noch einer gewesen sein. Seid bloß vorsichtig. Sucht nach dem Ding und dann raus hier." Wer soll hier gewesen sein du Idiot? Außer dem Alten lebt hier doch keiner, seine Frau ist schon seit Jahren tot." Wer waren diese Leute, und warum redeten sie über Papa und Mama als ob sie sie kennen würden? Emilia kroch. ”I called up to her, “You can’t fall unless you go through my cunt.” That brought all sorts of really weird images into my mind and I felt myself starting to go into an orgasm. It must have done something for slut also, because she stopped yelling and threw back her head and gave a really loud groan.Now she was chanting, “Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God,” over and over as she ground her cunt against mine. Then she started chanting, “No, no, no, I’ll fall, I’ll fall, I’ll fall.” She kept chanting that until suddenly she screamed really loud and began thrashing against me in a powerful orgasm. Having her cunt pounding, bouncing, and rubbing against mine took me over the top for the second... or was it the third time. After that, slut didn’t say anything, but she ground her cunt furiously against mine, taking us both over the top at least twice more.I sort of lost track of everything after that, but then I could feel something against my fingertips. Mistress June had lowered us and.
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And then the day came to a close. I had the largest pile of documents in my file, so it took me longer to pack up my briefcase, and by the time I was ready to go, everyone else had left. Except for her. She came into the office with a spray bottle of furniture polish (my best recollection, if it matters, is that it was Pledge), and some paper towels, and she began to wipe down the boardroom table. Coffee cups were cleared off first. I offered to help clean up, and over dirty coffee cups and fingerprints and smudges on the table, we began to talk. She was 44. I was 44. She was divorced with two children. I was married with one child. She was dating a man to whom she expected to become engaged. I was in a marriage that was far from ideal, lacking in intimacy and communication. We were of two different ethnic backgrounds, two different faiths, and yet we shared many of the same basic values. We talked and I found out that she came from another country, a small rural area, and it.

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