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The kitchen was quiet, except for the gentle tapping of his fingers on the marble. She looked at me from the counter, her legs crossed, her blouse unbuttoned without a bra. He knew exactly what he was doing. I approached without saying a word. I opened his legs with both hands, without asking permission, because he already had it before. Her body trembled just as she felt my fingers brush against her center, wet, ready. I kissed her while I caressed her, deep, slow. His back arched against the cold of the stone.

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