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Originally Posted by FAX
She raised her moist lips to Donger's.
Her braid had come undone and her golden hair fell over her shoulders in tangled curls. Her full breasts rose with each rapid breath, straining against the cloth of her shift, breasts that felt round and firm against his strong chest. He swelled with longing to explore them again, to taste them, to lose himself inside her. His breath was hot as he breathed the question he had waited so long to ask, "How often do you wash your legs?"
FAX
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Well, I do have rather high standards.