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Far from each girl so her older brother admires.
This time the kiss was long and sweet, our lips barely touched, as if too close contact could take us right now to where we could not get while in the car facing the traffic light.
You were excited, our kisses, as usual, made your feet wadded, despite the fact that you were sitting.
Damn it.
You didn’t want to let me know how secretly you are proud to have guessed that I realize how I am acting on you.
Or how quickly I can make your body respond to me.
Your brain worked hard trying to find a suitable witty sequel.
Trying to hide your embarrassment from my puppy devotion with all your strength, you finally came up with.
Once again I continued to move, but you still did not dare to look at me, and it seemed you almost lost your voice.
You whispered, looking at your lap.
(Meetings that the main character arranges with his sister are very glamorous.
No wonder – she is a glamorous girl! – approx.
ed.
) “Fucked up.”
I smiled, realizing that I won, if not the game, then certainly the set.
I drove up to a small restaurant that you hadn’t noticed before.
Inside it was dark and quiet, many romantic nooks with tables for two.
In the center of each table in a crystal vase, standing on

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a tablecloth of dense linen, adorned with a bright red rose.
Without a doubt, this place is intended for romantics and lovers.
You could not believe that there is such a cool restaurant in such a tiny town, and you did not know about it.
A smiling waitress with an understanding in her eyes led us to a table in the far corner.
As we walked through the hall, you noticed that there were few other visitors, and they all sat far away from each other – and all of them were couples who did not take their eyes off each other.
You understand that this cozy restaurant is unlikely to make a bid in the business for lunchtime, which explains the lack of visitors at the moment.

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As soon as we reached the table, the waitress said with a smile: “I will bring your order immediately,” and quietly went away.
I pushed your chair.
While sitting down, you typically tucked the skirt under your legs with a typical female gesture.
You glanced at my fly, giving a passionate desire for what you have to wait.
You were surprised and a little proud of what you saw, because I already stood on you.
Confirming her words, our waitress returned with a tray.
Putting a vase of strawberries, cream and sugar on the table, she winked at you.
Magically, an ice bucket and an uncorked bottle of champagne appeared from somewhere.
“Should I pour it?” Our waitress asked.
“Thanks, don’t,” I said.
As she left, she winked at you slyly again, as if she knew something that you did not know.
You thought that everyone should love lovers here.
You guessed that I certainly gave all the orders ahead of time so that during our meeting we would not be distracted by such mundane details as ordering food.
Of course not – all our attention should be focused only on each other.
I solemnly poured each of us a glass of sparkling wine, and then, holding out my hands under the table, touched your hands.
I looked into your dark eyes.
Laughter, promise, and lust were read in them as only a brother could read.
A cry of protest was ready to break out of your lips, but before you made a sound, you felt like I snapped the handcuffs around your tender wrists.
These thoughts, and died without turning into a sound, as a wave of moist heat swept inside you, and your face instantly turned pink.
So what does this mean, are you handcuffed? It’s all right, you say to yourself – you’ve already had to be handcuffed earlier, and you (for all God’s will!) Will do it again.
Of course, before this happened in a private setting of the bedroom, and not in public.
On the other hand, however, it was impossible to deny the effect that this had on you – even when breathing in the air, you could smell the smell coming from your lower lips.
Your thoughts were racing, trying to figure out the sensations that gripped you – from lust to surprise.
The touch of cold metal excites unusually.
You wondered for a moment why you were so sexually perverted, but these thoughts were immediately thrown away, and you returned to reality.
I pushed my chair closer to you.
You kept your hands on your knees, hiding them from the looks of people passing by.
Suddenly you had the right expression to describe what you feel, and you whispered it to me in the form of a question.
“Practically helpless?” I laughed, picked a strawberry and dipped it in cream.
After that, I mannerally dipped it into icing sugar, covering it with an additional sweet layer. Naked redhead models.

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