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How I didn’t, I’ll never know.”McDonnagh grinned at me and nodded. “Been there, done that, got the shakes afterwards, Mr. Weaver.”“Please,...call me David.”“Ach, no. See, if I had met you on the street or in a pub, then David it would be. But you are the client and Mr. Weaver you shall remain. Tis the way we do things here.” he said, brushing me off.He polished off his drink and set the glass down on the side table, then stood and reached behind his back. From his waistband he pulled a holster,. As first your little finger, then all fingers in sequence, brush lightly across your electrified nipple, your head arches back momentarily.My hands are defiant, teasing the skin and hair on my lower abdomen. I can feel myself straining into my pants – I’m forced to quickly adjust myself, surreptitiously I hope, so you don’t notice. I’m sprung! A tiny laugh escapes your lips at seeing the effect you are having on me, but you don’t break the mood. You’re just in the process of bringing your. More

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