Then George drew his fingertips slowly through the, by the cat, hot-whipped lips of her pussy. It made Jennifer arch up with a drawn-out, moaning cry ...hat ended, with the fourth stroking of her tantalised pussy, in a strangulated, “George! My God, why don’t you fuck me!”But George’s attention shifted now to Jennifer’s, for her age still almost perfect, straining into his grip, boobs. They were, from the cat’s whipping, hot, with its prominent, lusciously berry-like nipples, showily. " Couldn't have been our conversation then," he couldn't make it sound likehe believed it. "You and I haven't been anywhere near those places.Certainly not before the rally." he put all the exaggerated innocence hecould into the pronouncements. "Yeah, right. Like we could have that kind of power. Interestingcoincidence, though."They talked for a few more minutes, then hung up. He had a lot to thinkabout. He did have that kind of power. If he was right, his power had modifiedthe still-active. More

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