So I wore a little gingham dress white cotton knickers and white knee high socks. He was very gentle and just played with me as if I was his daughter,...again nothing sexual, but making sure I wore several outfits, with him dressing me every time. I never questioned why he just had her clothes in a bedroom and nothing belonging to her mother..When I visited him, I used to enter the house from the back lane, making sure that all was clear. Our little routine was that when I got there, I would get. I didn't answer, I just raised my legs higher and farther apart and told him, "Please, no words just fuck me." Part of what I had just said to him I now repeating...often, "fuck me, oh, fuck me." I could feel his cock getting harder...really hard...and the thrusts deeper, a little quicker and always a bit deeper. "Oh" he gasped, "oh my god...I gonna cum...I'm cum..." then there was only him making some deep groaning as he shoved his dick deeper and held it here...I could feel it throbbing,. "But .." he asked. "Well, I think you want ... uh .. yeah, whatever," she said as she pulled away his blanket and his now completely hard cock in his hand came to the fore. She stood very close to the bed and smiled but from now on silently pulled her T-shirt over her head, and freed her beautiful, large and slightly hanging breasts.Then she pushed down her sports pants and velvet panties. She knelt on the bed and leaned over him. She braced herself with one hand and wordlessly gripped his. There had been times when she was able to observe him without him being aware - of him polishing his beloved Yamaha out by the back door, his long corn-coloured hair falling lazily over one eye that so reminded her of his father; and of Jason fixing an item of electrical equipment in the home, a look of intense concentration that brought a deep furrow to his brow; and also of seeing him standing behind a steam clouded shower screen while a fresh towel was taken into to him because he’d.
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