. comfortable.”She arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying my kitchen chairs are not comfortable. You haven't even tried one out.”“I haven't tried ...ut your bed,” I pointed out, pulling out a stiff chair. “We could... stretch out on your soft mattress and... talk.”“Talk...” A shiver ran through her body, a sway to her hips. She opened cabinets revealing a collection of tea cups. She pulled two down and set them on a tray. “Sure, talk,” I said, a throb running through my dick. I shouldn't be doing. Rather, her bloodline appeared to have come from a mixture of races. Her fertile imagination had supplied that scenario as well. She imagined a slave holder, who looked a little like Rhett Butler, on some plantation, looking over a new shipment of slaves one day. His eye would have fallen on her great great grandmother, who was, no doubt, a tall, thin, well muscled woman from the Massai, used to walking or running long distances. She would have had the high, conical breasts that Jessica had,. More

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