The hell with it, I thought, and returned to kissing my spouse and fondling her boobs. When she pushed up a little and wrapped her legs around my butt and ground her pussy against my growing erection, I released her lips and looked at her. She smiled. That's all I needed to see.I countered her grinds with some of my own. That seemed to set her off even more, and things were getting to the point when I wondered if I was going to come in my swimsuit, or maybe find my way inside her and see what. I saw her tits. Now, when I kissed her and parted her lips with my tongue before making passionate love with her, I saw her for the woman that she is and has always been. I saw Christine.Like mother like daughter, kissing Christine reminded me of kissing Samantha. Beautiful in her own right, who wouldn't want to kiss Christine? Where Samantha faltered, Christine shined. An amazing, talented, and intelligent woman, the spitting image of her daughter physically, only she was a much morally better. Our hands explored the roundness of each others behinds as we pressed closer, our tongues lashing in one anothers mouths. Simply unable to get as close as we needed to be. I wanted to be one with her, to devour her or be devoured. Her hand went between my legs. I cried out, startling a lone owl in the tree above us who squawked his disapproval and flapped away. Cordelia laughed as she placed her hand over my mouth. She led me back to the shore. We dressed and walked joyously back, to spend the. We talked more. Zahra had questions about critical analysis, deconstructionism and objective evaluation of a work versus its value as a work with expectation of the readers. The topic largely left everyone else eager to start separate conversations of their own that did not include those topics. My impression of Zahra as a future philosophy major was improved. Combined with her head scarf and talking like a valley girl, she was starting to become less an oddity and more just Zahra.Eventually.
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