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But people can not be so.
– Yes, there will only be Pasha.
– Ah, then fine.

– she looked at the pantyhose in my hands – Ol, if so, you definitely need stockings! – I do not have.
I didn’t actually come here to fuck, and it’s not a season for stockings.
– I have.
To give? – No, Len, do not.
November in the yard, I’ll freeze everything myself until I finish! – Need, Need! – Lenka was already digging in the bottom drawer of the dresser.
– And I will take you to work, you will not freeze.
Here you are.
– she handed me the packaging.
Stockings turned out to be unloved by me – a vulgar black mesh with a wide lace elastic.
However, under pressure from my sister, I was forced to wear them.
She looked in the mirror – even now on the panel.
While I was painting, Lenka brought me a bag with me – a pair of towels, a pack of napkins, tights, something else.
I only saw it out of the corner of my eye, but did not check.
As promised, she took me to the office, where I, shivering from the cold that reached my hips and my ass, slipped through the door.
Pasha, of course, was already here.
Gallantly helping me take off my jacket, he stuck for a while at the sight of my chest, brazenly darkening the nipple and its surroundings from under her blouse and bra, but pulled himself together.
First thing.
However, it still didn’t work for him.
The guy also realized that today he was waiting for sex again, constantly looking at me, sighing, licking his lips, in general, he didn’t work out to concentrate on his work.

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Having suffered so much for half an hour, I came to the conclusion that, probably, it is worthwhile first of all to let it drop the accumulated excitement, otherwise it will not work.
I walked up to the window, turned the slats of the blinds at such an angle that in no case could we see from the street and walked over to it, sitting next to the table.
One leg was left on the floor, the other, with his hand on her hip, was lying on the table, giving him the opportunity to look under the skirt.
– Pash.
can we make a break? – I suggested.
– Yeah.
he breathed hoarsely, touching my knee.
Pashkina’s hand crawled along the thigh, crossed the elastic of the stocking and touched the bare skin.
The fingers were cool and smooth.
They gently stroked my leg, or rather its open part, from the panties to the stocking, causing me a pleasant excitement in the lower abdomen.
I sat down on the table in front of him properly, putting my feet on the arms of his chair.
Skirt slipped to the belt.
Pasha, straining to breathe, now stroked both my legs with both hands, staring between them, where a dark strip of hair remaining on the pubic showed through a narrow strip of panties, and a wet spot blurred below.
Gradually, his hands got to the pants, shifting them to the side.
An impatient finger dived into the wet vagina, along with a pleasant feeling of penetration making me feel some dissatisfaction — I already wanted it to turn out to be something thicker and more authentic.
However, at first, Pashka, stretching the sponge with his index fingers as much as possible, massaged the clitoris until it resembled a microscopic member, viewing it as if it was the first time he had seen from such a distance.
Only after that he got up, pushing the chair away, tangling, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing out an eerily forward-facing organ.
The head swelled to an incredible size, which I not only saw, but felt when, pulling me to the edge, he began to shove it into me.
Mommies! – I thought, feeling how the vagina is stretched

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