Now it held a completely different meaning. Her foot moved away each time Marianne returned to the table, but immediately found its way back to my leg...when she exited. Several times throughout dinner she patted my hand, or squeezed it to emphasize a point, or smiled at me in a way that really drew me in. She also traced her fingertips over the neckline of her dress in an absent-minded way, drawing my attention to the exposed skin above her breasts. I couldn't tell if she was wearing a bra, but. Look, I’ll tell you a little story. A couple of years ago, back in London. I was a bull for the couple two doors down from me. You know what that is?” “No.” He started making exaggerated motions while talking. “Means I would get in there, and we’d have a couple of drinks together—all three of us. And then, the wife would make her man sit in a chair, and she’d give him a little strip tease. Then she would blow me, right there in front of him. And after that, I would fuck her for half an hour,. More

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