“French knickers? Pouring honey no my nips and hundreds-and-thousands over my tummy? And now about to bone me while I’m wearing kinky boots? Oh yo...’re my quiet little pervert all right,” she grinned as she got onto her bed, waited for me to join her, and pushed me onto my back as she carefully straddled me, making sure none of the buckles were going to catch on my legs once things got busy.“And you’re really keeping the boots on?” I asked.“Hell yeah!” Lia chuckled as she reached between her. He could see a tan line, where her bikini had protected some areas, and let others get brown. He had no idea of what size she was. In his personal history, bra size had never come up. If a girl bared them, he concentrated on touching them as much as possible, not asking things like, "By the way, what size are your knockers?"So he didn't know if she was a C cup, or a D cup or a quadruple Q cup, and to be honest, he didn't care. They looked luscious, and firm, and he wanted to rub his nose. More

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