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The moon light casts images of the leaves on the sill, the table and the japan floor. They shift and flicker with an narcotic cadence. Sparkles, on the waters of the brook, call her into their captivating grip. She thinks on the years she's spent alone in her world and wonders what his world was like. "Cheep!" � She looks up. The little bird curiouses his head side to side. She picks up a red berry and holds it out for him to eat from her fingertips. His tiny beak, pecks the meat from the raspberry, careful not to nip her hand. Her eyes, heavy and dry, unconsciously drift towards the man in the bed . "It's habit," she guesses,� but it could be something more. � She returns to the chair by his bedside, and finishes her snack and tea and, with sated stomach and a sigh of relief, she arches her back and stretches, drifting off and away into dreams of her own. Visions fill her head, of flesh and light. She grinds in the chair, teased by the scents of their bodies as they intermingle and swirl all around her. They find their way deep inside her and tantalize her blood, enticing her with a carnal pulse way down in the depths of her core. She half wakens with a shudder. A moist heat and an uncomfortable throbbing grow in her, causing her to moan with an appetite that’s not for food.� She is too tired not to feel it but way too tired to give in. � The chatter of the morning fills the air. The new day's sun shines upon the eyes of the man in the bed. He wakes with a start, in a place unfamiliar.� His vision is unfocused and burns in the brilliance, his ears pound chinese with the sound of his own heart.� His brain fills with remembrances, of death and agony and blood and screams.� Panicked eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape, as adrenaline courses through his veins and set his thoughts ablaze. The light focuses through the window and pulls his attention to the figure in white,� sleeping fitfully, in the rickety chair overlooking his bed. Her face, alien, yet familiar, is adorned in a serenity that settles his pulse and fears.� The sun’s rays silhouette her curves, as it glows upon her skin, flickering through the diaphanous cloth, offering him a glimpse of her. His pulse quickens again, at urges more rousing, more passionate, than animal or cruel. Figments, of days past, filter through him fondly. Her soft healing touch, the firmness of her breast against his chest, the warmth of the energy she seemed to will into him, and that soft soothing melody she hummed, that charged� him against surrender. � From where asian these visions come, he does not know. From where she has come and how they had happened to this place, he realizes he's blind to that too. He watches as the light touches on her face and, as her chest rises and falls, reveals more to him of her subtle charms. She looks soul-spent, but beautiful. He turns to his side and grimaces at the stiffness in his neck and shoulders, his neck cracks and he freezes in a moment of ecstatic release. � She wakes, just like she's done every time the bed creaked under the return of his discomfort. She stretches her back, raises her arms to the sky with a stiff, side to side sway, then opens her eyes to check on japanese his state.� She smiles when she sees, he's awake and his pain is now at ease.� Her eyes spark with an energy that seems to command her body to life and, with a slow and deliberate effort, she stands from her vigil, slips off her dress, places it pussy on the seat and drifts towards him, watching his attention embrace her as she closes the distance between. � His eyes dilate as they trace the contours of her hips and the delicate curves of her waist.� They track the scars that flow from just under her chest and across her ribs, only to wane from his view behind the soft indentation in the crook of her arm. She flushes as they widen at the sight of her small but firm breasts, and� again, when they touch upon the subtle mound of flaxen strands that adorns her sex. Their� eyes meet� again and he sees a longing, no, he sees a knowing, a burning and honest sense of things, that drowns out the distance of their ages,� entwining their fates within a single thread. She leans to the fabric and grips the edge. � He doesn't protest, when she pulls the blanket from him or as she nestles her body into his.� It's a comfort he remembers from somewhere within the haze.� She places her head on his chest and exhales, content and happy.� He pulls the blanket over them both, wrapping an aching arm around her.� Her hand falls delicately on his chest and she settles into a much deserved and very deep sleep. The questions in his mind somehow don't matter in this moment. "I don't know what asian Sheila will do. “You didn't come to practice hard,” japan said Ayame. “No lasting damaged then.” I thought. After the first two squirts, she pulled off and gagged a little as my cock continued to shoot sperms everywhere. Jon says that I’m turning into a little boy. Bell guide her to us please and let her chinese in. We HAD been talking about it, for the last two hours, and he wouldn't let it go. Tink blushed a deep red and said quietly, “I read stories online and get excited. I continued to stare. James' senses were flooded with pure magic; it was the closest he'd ever come to a religious experience. "Hey," Jan spoke up, "You're not a lesbian, and neither are we. My muscles tensed, my pussy dick throbbing in her bowels embrace. "I will keep that in mind." japanese