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Santa didnt exist and wouldnt bring us what we wanted on Christmas Eve.“What? Im outraged. I feel my blood boiling with the harsh cruelty of it. Santa does exist.You dont believe that, do you? He shakes his head, his eyes wide. Yes, yes I do. I nod my head emphatically. Maybe not in the way a child does, but I heartily believe in the spirit of Father Christmas. I believe in the meaning behind the make-believe. My faith is in the giving, which is the true centre of the festive season—the heart of it all. Its all about making life better for other people and, through that, enhancing your own life. Santa definitely exists.Suddenly, those lips are on mine again, and his arms wrap around me. I feel his cheek against my skin.
I feel moisture there: the trail of a tear. I close my eyes and kiss back, giving. I give him the softest, gentlest kiss I can. I want him to feel cherished. My heart throbs in pain at the harshness he’s suffered in his life. I want to smooth over all those rough edges; I want him to see what I mean about Father Christmas existing. I pull him closer to me. My arms wrap tighter around him, and I stroke his back to offer comfort. Our lips, in contrast, are joined lustfully. With every small move, I feel my heart beat harder and faster. I become dizzy with the speed at which the blood is whizzing around my body, making every inch of me zing with the created friction and heat. His body presses me back against the sofa arm, twisting my own beneath him.His lips leave mine and kiss a fizzing trail of pleasure down my neck to my collar bone. His hands rise from their position on my hips to slide under my loose-fitting red jumper and up higher to cup my breasts. The shock of his cool hands through the thin, lacy gauze is deliciously arousing. I groan my appreciation as his fingers dig into the cups and ease out the masses of abundant tit-flesh beneath. Pushing the wool of my jumper up with the tops of his wrists, his lips leave the soft flesh at the hollow of my neck. Moments later, after my jumper is completely removed, their warm wetness encompasses my nipple, sending even more inten.</p><p>a realistic male masturbator what's your favourite method for hands-free fun?' and visit the forum thread to discuss the different ways that you can use male masturbators.As always, a big thank you goes out to everyone who voted in the last my blog poll.If you've got something to say about the results of our last poll, leave a comment below....</p>
Santa didnt exist and wouldnt bring us what we wanted on Christmas Eve.“What? Im outraged. I feel my blood boiling with the harsh cruelty of it. Santa does exist.You dont believe that, do you? He shakes his head, his eyes wide. Yes, yes I do. I nod my head emphatically. Maybe not in the way a child does, but I heartily believe in the spirit of Father Christmas. I believe in the meaning behind the make-believe. My faith is in the giving, which is the true centre of the festive season—the heart of it all. Its all about making life better for other people and, through that, enhancing your own life. Santa definitely exists.Suddenly, those lips are on mine again, and his arms wrap around me. I feel his cheek against my skin.
I feel moisture there: the trail of a tear. I close my eyes and kiss back, giving. I give him the softest, gentlest kiss I can. I want him to feel cherished. My heart throbs in pain at the harshness he’s suffered in his life. I want to smooth over all those rough edges; I want him to see what I mean about Father Christmas existing. I pull him closer to me. My arms wrap tighter around him, and I stroke his back to offer comfort. Our lips, in contrast, are joined lustfully. With every small move, I feel my heart beat harder and faster. I become dizzy with the speed at which the blood is whizzing around my body, making every inch of me zing with the created friction and heat. His body presses me back against the sofa arm, twisting my own beneath him.His lips leave mine and kiss a fizzing trail of pleasure down my neck to my collar bone. His hands rise from their position on my hips to slide under my loose-fitting red jumper and up higher to cup my breasts. The shock of his cool hands through the thin, lacy gauze is deliciously arousing. I groan my appreciation as his fingers dig into the cups and ease out the masses of abundant tit-flesh beneath. Pushing the wool of my jumper up with the tops of his wrists, his lips leave the soft flesh at the hollow of my neck. Moments later, after my jumper is completely removed, their warm wetness encompasses my nipple, sending even more inten.</p><p>a realistic male masturbator what's your favourite method for hands-free fun?' and visit the forum thread to discuss the different ways that you can use male masturbators.As always, a big thank you goes out to everyone who voted in the last my blog poll.If you've got something to say about the results of our last poll, leave a comment below....</p>
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