A little after 3:30 I packed up my briefcase and headed home. I had a salad for dinner. Changed my clothes. Did a few errands and vacuumed the living ...oom.I got in my car a little after dusk and drove the twenty minutes to the beach. There was no rush. The kids did not sneak up to the dunes until after the sun had fully set.I was about a half mile down the beach when I heard my name being called.“Hey, Miss. Thompson, wait up.”I stopped, turned and saw Adam Bainbridge jogging toward me. Adam is. . so I took this photo intending to show him what he was missing, but I couldn’t send it.”“Oh.” Ryan sat back. “That makes sense. He could’ve put it on the internet, or sent it to you family. Or something.”She nodded, and said “That’s not why I stopped. He was right in a way, I was boring, with him. Mainly because I didn’t really trust him and I was right. He’d been cheating on me pretty much the whole time. And after I left, I wanted to show him that he was wrong about me, that he was missing. The Predator watched her falter in her red high-heels and his eyesfollowed the back seams on her gossamer black stockings from where theybegan at the fashioned Cuban heels to where they disappeared under herblack leather miniskirt, her well rounded arse was emphasised by the tightskirt. Her white nylon blouse glowed ethereally in the dim neon lighting;the colours from the cheap beer signs creating highlights in her blondebob and reflecting off her jewellery; she was the most desirable thing. She loved the milky-white “gooey” feeling of two mouths at her tits; especially one on each nipple. She felt awesomely powerless as they turned her over and made their wet lapping way down to her arse. All she could do was surrender to the two wet tongue tips moving up and down her arse crack. One of them kept circling her anus while the other lapped at the bottom of her inner lips, tantalizing her. Helen felt as though a great tsunami of excitement was building up in her thighs. She didn’t.
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