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Forty-Three: His Little Plaything

FLEKI

The fuck?

The actual freaking fuck?

I wanted to stop, to halt from doing what I was doing but I couldn't bring myself to stop, not with the whimpers that were escaping from her mouth with each smack delivered to her ass cheeks.

Not with the way she was raising her ass in invitation and in anticipation of my next smack.

Now with the way she was clenching her thighs together, definitely trying to create friction in her core because the smell of her arousal was so intense and wild that I could taste it in the air.

Not with her responsiveness, her eagerness, her submissiveness like a cunt whose purpose was only to get fucked.

And definitely not with my excitement, my feral and uncontrollable excitement that was so intense and wild that it made my dick so hard it hurts like her. I've never been this excited about sex, about fucking, it was just a means to an end for me, something to get me to have a release, something to vent out all my anger and frustrations in, and something to
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