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... he fabric itself buzz audibly, a low, wet hum that mixed with the obscene plup-plup-plup-plup of liquid being churned inside her.
Is her pussy going to be okay?
The thought flashed through the haze.
She was dripping so much—endless, clear fluid gushing out in rhythmic pulses, soaking my hand to the elbow, pooling on the floor in a wide, reflective lake—but she hadn’t cum. Not in the way that it should count as one.
I could tell.
Her body was locked in a st ...
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