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As the sun sank toward the horizon, casting a golden glow over the ocean, I proposed dinner at our favorite beachside restaurant, a cozy spot where the waves whispered secrets and the air was thick with possibility. The suggestion hung between us like a spark, igniting a playful, intimate energy that made my skin tingle with anticipation. We slipped into our room to prepare, the atmosphere charged with unspoken promises. I chose a light, flowing skirt that danced against my thighs and a fitted top that traced my curves, deliberately not wearing any panties or a bra. The fabric felt daringly thin, leaving me exposed to every sensation, my body alive with the thrill of being so bare. He opted for a simple t-shirt and loose shorts, skipping underwear entirely, being naked from inside like his mom his choice mirroring mine a quiet agreement to share this vulnerability, this secret freedom that bound us closer not only as mother and son but as lovers.
Stepping outside, the cool evening breeze swept in from the sea, teasing my skin like a lover’s breath. It slipped beneath my skirt, brushing against my bare folds of my pussy with a chilly caress that sent a shiver of delight through me. I glanced at him, catching the subtle shift in his expression as the wind invaded his shorts, grazing his most sensitive places. Our eyes met, a shared spark of mischief and desire passing between us, as if the ocean itself were in on our private game. Every step toward the car felt like a dance, the air teasing us, heightening our awareness of each other’s bodies as we reached the parking area outside our house.
We settled into the car, the leather seats cool and smooth against my bare thighs, amplifying the sensation of my nakedness beneath the skirt. The moment the doors closed, sealing us in our intimate little world, I turned to him with a wicked smile, my voice low and commanding. “Pull down your shorts,” I said, letting the words drip with authority, “and keep them down until we reach the restaurant. Obey your queen mother my darling prince.” His eyes lit up with that delicious mix of excitement and surrender I adored, and without hesitation, he slid his shorts to his ankles, revealing himself to me. His dick stood proud, thick and veined, pulsing with the rush of blood that betrayed his arousal. The sight of him, so open and responsive, sent a warm ache through my core, deepening the intimacy of the moment.
Unable to resist, I reached over, my fingers wrapping gently around his hardness, feeling the heat and the subtle throb beneath my touch. “Oh, what’s this?” I teased, my voice playful as I gripped him like the car’s gear shift. “Did I grab the wrong stick?” I mimed shifting gears, my hand gliding along his length with deliberate slowness, each movement drawing a soft gasp from him. His laughter mingled with mine, a shared joy that filled the car, our connection sparking with every chuckle. “Careful, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and desire, “you might shift us into overdrive.” I grinned, giving him one last teasing stroke before releasing him, our laughter weaving us closer, the moment as intimate as it was playful.
I started the engine, the low hum vibrating through the seats, syncing with the rhythm of my racing pulse. As we pulled onto the winding coastal road, the ocean breeze poured through the open windows, carrying the salty scent of the sea and cooling our heated skin. My skirt fluttered with each gust, the air slipping beneath to tease my bare pussy, keeping me on the edge of arousal. But my gaze kept drifting to him, his shorts still down, his dick swaying gently with the car’s motion. On the straightaways, it stood tall, a proud testament to his desire for me. But as I navigated the curves, each turn and bump made it bob and rotate, a mesmerizing dance that mirrored the pulse of our connection. I watched, captivated, the way his body responded to every shift, veins prominent, skin flushed, a living symbol of the intimacy we shared.
Occasionally, I’d reach over, my fingers brushing against him a soft squeeze, a fleeting caress—feeling his pulse quicken under my touch. Each contact was a reminder of our bond, a silent vow of trust and passion. The wind swirled around us, cooling the heat of our skin but doing nothing to quell the fire building within. The road stretched on, the restaurant’s twinkling lights eventually appearing in the distance, but in that drive, wrapped in the embrace of the evening and the rhythm of the sea, we were utterly lost in each other. Every glance, every touch, every shared breath felt like a love letter written in the language of our bodies—intimate, playful, and profoundly ours.
The twinkling lights of the beachside restaurant came into view, their warm glow a beacon against the deepening twilight. I eased the car into the parking lot, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires grounding us after the dreamlike drive along the coastal road. The ocean’s rhythmic whispers carried through the open windows, mingling with the salty breeze that still teased my bare skin beneath my skirt. My body hummed with the electric intimacy we’d cultivated during the journey, every glance and touch between us weaving a tapestry of desire that felt alive in the air. I glanced at him, his shorts still pooled at his ankles, his shaft standing proud and responsive, swaying slightly as the car came to a stop. The sight of him, so vulnerable and open to me, sent a fresh wave of warmth through my core, deepening the connection that pulsed between us.
I turned off the engine, the sudden quiet amplifying the sound of our breathing, the distant crash of waves, and the faint thrum of my own heartbeat. Leaning across the center console, I let my gaze linger on him, my eyes tracing the lines of his body, the way his arousal stood as a testament to our shared secret. A playful, wicked impulse surged within me, and I leaned closer, my breath warm against his skin as I whispered, “One last treat before we go in, my love.” With a slow, deliberate movement, I bent down, my hair brushing against his thigh as I brought my lips to his hardness. I pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the tip of his penis, feeling the heat and the subtle pulse beneath my lips. It was a tender, intimate gesture, both possessive and adoring, a seal on the private world we’d created during the drive. His sharp intake of breath, a soft groan escaping his lips, sent a thrill through me, my own body responding with a shiver of delight at the power I held in that moment.
I lingered there for a heartbeat, savoring the warmth of his skin against my lips, the way his body tensed and relaxed under my touch. Then, with a teasing smile, I sat up, meeting his eyes—those beautiful, desire-filled eyes that mirrored my own hunger. “Time to behave… for now,” I murmured, my voice laced with mischief. “Pull your shorts up, darling. We can’t have you walking into the restaurant like this though I’m tempted.” I winked, watching as he chuckled, the sound low and warm, a shared acknowledgment of the delicious tension we’d built. He obeyed, sliding his shorts back up with a mock sigh of reluctance, though the bulge beneath the fabric told me his body was still very much under my spell. The act of covering himself felt like another layer of our game, a promise that this intimacy would continue, hidden just beneath the surface as we stepped into the public world.
As we stepped out of the car, the cool ocean air swirled around us once more, teasing my bare skin and reminding me of the freedom beneath my skirt. I reached for his hand, our fingers intertwining, the touch grounding and electric all at once. The restaurant’s warm lights spilled out onto the wooden deck, where the scent of grilled seafood and fresh herbs mingled with the salt of the sea. We walked toward the entrance, our steps in sync, the unspoken bond between us stronger than ever. Every brush of my skirt against my thighs, every glance we exchanged, carried the weight of our shared secret the kiss, the drive, the way we’d bared ourselves to each other in ways that went beyond the physical. As we crossed the threshold into the restaurant, I felt a rush of anticipation, knowing that the night was far from over, and our private dance of desire would continue, woven into every moment we spent together.
As we stepped into the restaurant, the warm glow of the hanging lanterns bathed us in a soft, golden light, casting playful shadows across the wooden floors. The bright illumination revealed every detail, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the unmistakable outline of his long, hard penis pressing against the thin fabric of his shorts. The sight sent a delicious thrill through me, a reminder of the secret we’d carried from the car, now barely concealed in this public space. I couldn’t resist leaning in close, my voice a teasing whisper as I brushed my fingers lightly against his arm. “Well, well, somebody’s very excited,” I murmured, my lips curving into a mischievous smile. The way his outline strained against the material was both bold and intimate, a private signal of the fire we’d kindled during our drive.
He rolled his eyes, a playful exasperation in his expression, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed his arousal. “And who’s responsible for this, hmm?” he shot back, his voice low and laced with mock accusation, though the glint in his eyes told me he was relishing every second of our game. Then his gaze softened, and he leaned closer, his words wrapping around me like a caress. “By the way, you look absolutely breathtaking in that dress like an angel fallen from heaven.” His compliment caught me off guard, warmth blooming in my cheeks as I blushed, my heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. The way he looked at me, as if I were the only person in the room, made the bustling restaurant fade into the background, our connection a quiet pulse beneath the surface.
Just then, a waitress approached, her smile professional as she asked, “Would you like a table, ma’am?” My instincts kicked in, and I quickly stepped in front of him, positioning myself to shield his obvious arousal from her view. My skirt swished against my bare thighs, a reminder of my own vulnerability, and I felt a surge of protectiveness mixed with pride this secret was ours alone. With a confident smile, I replied, “I’ve booked the private spot, the treehouse by the sea.” The waitress nodded, gesturing for us to follow, but I knew exactly where we were headed a secluded, enclosed nook elevated like a treehouse, facing the ocean, where meals were delivered via a discreet pulley system. It was the perfect setting for our intimate evening, a haven where no one could disturb the private world we were weaving.
As we followed her through the restaurant, I felt his hand brush against mine, a subtle touch that sent sparks up my spine. The treehouse loomed ahead, its wooden structure draped in soft fairy lights, perched just above the sand with a panoramic view of the moonlit waves. We climbed the short spiral staircase, the sound of the ocean growing louder, its rhythm syncing with the beat of my heart. Once inside, the door closed behind us, and the space enveloped us in privacy. The walls were adorned with woven tapestries, and large windows opened to the sea, letting the salty breeze drift in while keeping us hidden from prying eyes. The table was set for two, illuminated by a single candle that flickered like a shared secret.
I turned to him, my eyes catching the outline of his hardness again, still evident even in the softer light of the treehouse. “Looks like you’re still under my spell,” I teased, stepping closer until our bodies were almost touching, the heat between us palpable. He chuckled, his hands finding my waist, pulling me just close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. “And you’re still playing the queen,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made my skin tingle. The pulley system whirred softly in the background, signaling that our meal would soon arrive, but in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just us, wrapped in the glow of the candlelight, the sound of the waves, and the electric current of our desire. The night stretched before us, a canvas for our love, painted with whispers, touches, and the promise of more intimate moments to come.
Nestled in the cozy seclusion of the treehouse, we settled into the plush cushions of our private nook, the candle’s flicker casting a warm glow across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the glint of mischief in his eyes. The ocean’s gentle rhythm drifted through the open windows, mingling with the faint creak of the pulley system that would soon deliver our meal. The intimacy of the space wrapped around us like a cocoon, amplifying every glance, every brush of our hands, as if the world beyond these wooden walls had vanished entirely. His shorts still hinted at the outline of his arousal, a secret we carried from the car, and I felt a delicious thrill knowing we were hidden away, free to revel in our private connection.
As we waited for our food, the conversation turned to the afternoon, a memory still vivid and electric between us. I leaned closer, my voice low and teasing, my fingers tracing idle patterns on the tablecloth. “So, darling,” I murmured, “how did you enjoy this afternoon’s… pleasure?” My lips curved into a knowing smile, recalling the way I’d taken him in my mouth, the heat of his skin, the way his breath had hitched. His eyes darkened with memory, a slow grin spreading across his face. “It was… incredible,” he said, his voice husky, “the way you moved, the way you tasted me. And your breasts…” He paused, his gaze dropping to my chest, where my top clung to my curves, leaving little to the imagination. “They’re perfect. I could still taste them, feel them against me.” Then, with a playful glint, he added, “I almost wished they’d give up some milk, just to make it even sweeter.”
His words caught me off guard, and I burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up like champagne, filling the treehouse with our shared joy. “Oh, you’re ridiculous!” I teased, swatting his arm lightly, but the image he painted sent a warm flush through me, a mix of amusement and desire. We laughed together, the kind of laughter that felt like an embrace, drawing us closer in the glow of the candlelight. His presence, his humor, his unfiltered adoration it was everything I loved about being with him, every moment a thread weaving us tighter together.
But as our laughter faded, I noticed a subtle tension in his expression, a slight furrow in his brow. My heart tugged with concern, and I reached for his hand, my fingers lacing through his. “Are you okay, baby?” I asked softly, searching his face. He shook his head, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “No, I’m not,” he admitted, his voice low. Before I could ask why, he glanced downward, his eyes directing mine to the unmistakable bulge in his shorts, still straining against the fabric, a testament to the fire we’d been stoking all evening.
I couldn’t help it I laughed again, a soft, affectionate sound that escaped before I could stop it. The sight of him, so affected by me, was both endearing and empowering. But then, seeing the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, I softened, my tone shifting to one of gentle seriousness. I leaned closer, my hand resting on his thigh, my thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of his shorts, just close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. “Baby,” I said, my voice low and reassuring, “why didn’t you tell me sooner? You know I’ll always take care of you.” My words were a promise, laced with devotion and a hint of playful authority, my eyes locking with his to let him know I meant every syllable. The air between us thickened with anticipation unction
Stepping outside, the cool evening breeze swept in from the sea, teasing my skin like a lover’s breath. It slipped beneath my skirt, brushing against my bare folds of my pussy with a chilly caress that sent a shiver of delight through me. I glanced at him, catching the subtle shift in his expression as the wind invaded his shorts, grazing his most sensitive places. Our eyes met, a shared spark of mischief and desire passing between us, as if the ocean itself were in on our private game. Every step toward the car felt like a dance, the air teasing us, heightening our awareness of each other’s bodies as we reached the parking area outside our house.
We settled into the car, the leather seats cool and smooth against my bare thighs, amplifying the sensation of my nakedness beneath the skirt. The moment the doors closed, sealing us in our intimate little world, I turned to him with a wicked smile, my voice low and commanding. “Pull down your shorts,” I said, letting the words drip with authority, “and keep them down until we reach the restaurant. Obey your queen mother my darling prince.” His eyes lit up with that delicious mix of excitement and surrender I adored, and without hesitation, he slid his shorts to his ankles, revealing himself to me. His dick stood proud, thick and veined, pulsing with the rush of blood that betrayed his arousal. The sight of him, so open and responsive, sent a warm ache through my core, deepening the intimacy of the moment.
Unable to resist, I reached over, my fingers wrapping gently around his hardness, feeling the heat and the subtle throb beneath my touch. “Oh, what’s this?” I teased, my voice playful as I gripped him like the car’s gear shift. “Did I grab the wrong stick?” I mimed shifting gears, my hand gliding along his length with deliberate slowness, each movement drawing a soft gasp from him. His laughter mingled with mine, a shared joy that filled the car, our connection sparking with every chuckle. “Careful, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and desire, “you might shift us into overdrive.” I grinned, giving him one last teasing stroke before releasing him, our laughter weaving us closer, the moment as intimate as it was playful.
I started the engine, the low hum vibrating through the seats, syncing with the rhythm of my racing pulse. As we pulled onto the winding coastal road, the ocean breeze poured through the open windows, carrying the salty scent of the sea and cooling our heated skin. My skirt fluttered with each gust, the air slipping beneath to tease my bare pussy, keeping me on the edge of arousal. But my gaze kept drifting to him, his shorts still down, his dick swaying gently with the car’s motion. On the straightaways, it stood tall, a proud testament to his desire for me. But as I navigated the curves, each turn and bump made it bob and rotate, a mesmerizing dance that mirrored the pulse of our connection. I watched, captivated, the way his body responded to every shift, veins prominent, skin flushed, a living symbol of the intimacy we shared.
Occasionally, I’d reach over, my fingers brushing against him a soft squeeze, a fleeting caress—feeling his pulse quicken under my touch. Each contact was a reminder of our bond, a silent vow of trust and passion. The wind swirled around us, cooling the heat of our skin but doing nothing to quell the fire building within. The road stretched on, the restaurant’s twinkling lights eventually appearing in the distance, but in that drive, wrapped in the embrace of the evening and the rhythm of the sea, we were utterly lost in each other. Every glance, every touch, every shared breath felt like a love letter written in the language of our bodies—intimate, playful, and profoundly ours.
The twinkling lights of the beachside restaurant came into view, their warm glow a beacon against the deepening twilight. I eased the car into the parking lot, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires grounding us after the dreamlike drive along the coastal road. The ocean’s rhythmic whispers carried through the open windows, mingling with the salty breeze that still teased my bare skin beneath my skirt. My body hummed with the electric intimacy we’d cultivated during the journey, every glance and touch between us weaving a tapestry of desire that felt alive in the air. I glanced at him, his shorts still pooled at his ankles, his shaft standing proud and responsive, swaying slightly as the car came to a stop. The sight of him, so vulnerable and open to me, sent a fresh wave of warmth through my core, deepening the connection that pulsed between us.
I turned off the engine, the sudden quiet amplifying the sound of our breathing, the distant crash of waves, and the faint thrum of my own heartbeat. Leaning across the center console, I let my gaze linger on him, my eyes tracing the lines of his body, the way his arousal stood as a testament to our shared secret. A playful, wicked impulse surged within me, and I leaned closer, my breath warm against his skin as I whispered, “One last treat before we go in, my love.” With a slow, deliberate movement, I bent down, my hair brushing against his thigh as I brought my lips to his hardness. I pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the tip of his penis, feeling the heat and the subtle pulse beneath my lips. It was a tender, intimate gesture, both possessive and adoring, a seal on the private world we’d created during the drive. His sharp intake of breath, a soft groan escaping his lips, sent a thrill through me, my own body responding with a shiver of delight at the power I held in that moment.
I lingered there for a heartbeat, savoring the warmth of his skin against my lips, the way his body tensed and relaxed under my touch. Then, with a teasing smile, I sat up, meeting his eyes—those beautiful, desire-filled eyes that mirrored my own hunger. “Time to behave… for now,” I murmured, my voice laced with mischief. “Pull your shorts up, darling. We can’t have you walking into the restaurant like this though I’m tempted.” I winked, watching as he chuckled, the sound low and warm, a shared acknowledgment of the delicious tension we’d built. He obeyed, sliding his shorts back up with a mock sigh of reluctance, though the bulge beneath the fabric told me his body was still very much under my spell. The act of covering himself felt like another layer of our game, a promise that this intimacy would continue, hidden just beneath the surface as we stepped into the public world.
As we stepped out of the car, the cool ocean air swirled around us once more, teasing my bare skin and reminding me of the freedom beneath my skirt. I reached for his hand, our fingers intertwining, the touch grounding and electric all at once. The restaurant’s warm lights spilled out onto the wooden deck, where the scent of grilled seafood and fresh herbs mingled with the salt of the sea. We walked toward the entrance, our steps in sync, the unspoken bond between us stronger than ever. Every brush of my skirt against my thighs, every glance we exchanged, carried the weight of our shared secret the kiss, the drive, the way we’d bared ourselves to each other in ways that went beyond the physical. As we crossed the threshold into the restaurant, I felt a rush of anticipation, knowing that the night was far from over, and our private dance of desire would continue, woven into every moment we spent together.
As we stepped into the restaurant, the warm glow of the hanging lanterns bathed us in a soft, golden light, casting playful shadows across the wooden floors. The bright illumination revealed every detail, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the unmistakable outline of his long, hard penis pressing against the thin fabric of his shorts. The sight sent a delicious thrill through me, a reminder of the secret we’d carried from the car, now barely concealed in this public space. I couldn’t resist leaning in close, my voice a teasing whisper as I brushed my fingers lightly against his arm. “Well, well, somebody’s very excited,” I murmured, my lips curving into a mischievous smile. The way his outline strained against the material was both bold and intimate, a private signal of the fire we’d kindled during our drive.
He rolled his eyes, a playful exasperation in his expression, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed his arousal. “And who’s responsible for this, hmm?” he shot back, his voice low and laced with mock accusation, though the glint in his eyes told me he was relishing every second of our game. Then his gaze softened, and he leaned closer, his words wrapping around me like a caress. “By the way, you look absolutely breathtaking in that dress like an angel fallen from heaven.” His compliment caught me off guard, warmth blooming in my cheeks as I blushed, my heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. The way he looked at me, as if I were the only person in the room, made the bustling restaurant fade into the background, our connection a quiet pulse beneath the surface.
Just then, a waitress approached, her smile professional as she asked, “Would you like a table, ma’am?” My instincts kicked in, and I quickly stepped in front of him, positioning myself to shield his obvious arousal from her view. My skirt swished against my bare thighs, a reminder of my own vulnerability, and I felt a surge of protectiveness mixed with pride this secret was ours alone. With a confident smile, I replied, “I’ve booked the private spot, the treehouse by the sea.” The waitress nodded, gesturing for us to follow, but I knew exactly where we were headed a secluded, enclosed nook elevated like a treehouse, facing the ocean, where meals were delivered via a discreet pulley system. It was the perfect setting for our intimate evening, a haven where no one could disturb the private world we were weaving.
As we followed her through the restaurant, I felt his hand brush against mine, a subtle touch that sent sparks up my spine. The treehouse loomed ahead, its wooden structure draped in soft fairy lights, perched just above the sand with a panoramic view of the moonlit waves. We climbed the short spiral staircase, the sound of the ocean growing louder, its rhythm syncing with the beat of my heart. Once inside, the door closed behind us, and the space enveloped us in privacy. The walls were adorned with woven tapestries, and large windows opened to the sea, letting the salty breeze drift in while keeping us hidden from prying eyes. The table was set for two, illuminated by a single candle that flickered like a shared secret.
I turned to him, my eyes catching the outline of his hardness again, still evident even in the softer light of the treehouse. “Looks like you’re still under my spell,” I teased, stepping closer until our bodies were almost touching, the heat between us palpable. He chuckled, his hands finding my waist, pulling me just close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. “And you’re still playing the queen,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made my skin tingle. The pulley system whirred softly in the background, signaling that our meal would soon arrive, but in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just us, wrapped in the glow of the candlelight, the sound of the waves, and the electric current of our desire. The night stretched before us, a canvas for our love, painted with whispers, touches, and the promise of more intimate moments to come.
Nestled in the cozy seclusion of the treehouse, we settled into the plush cushions of our private nook, the candle’s flicker casting a warm glow across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the glint of mischief in his eyes. The ocean’s gentle rhythm drifted through the open windows, mingling with the faint creak of the pulley system that would soon deliver our meal. The intimacy of the space wrapped around us like a cocoon, amplifying every glance, every brush of our hands, as if the world beyond these wooden walls had vanished entirely. His shorts still hinted at the outline of his arousal, a secret we carried from the car, and I felt a delicious thrill knowing we were hidden away, free to revel in our private connection.
As we waited for our food, the conversation turned to the afternoon, a memory still vivid and electric between us. I leaned closer, my voice low and teasing, my fingers tracing idle patterns on the tablecloth. “So, darling,” I murmured, “how did you enjoy this afternoon’s… pleasure?” My lips curved into a knowing smile, recalling the way I’d taken him in my mouth, the heat of his skin, the way his breath had hitched. His eyes darkened with memory, a slow grin spreading across his face. “It was… incredible,” he said, his voice husky, “the way you moved, the way you tasted me. And your breasts…” He paused, his gaze dropping to my chest, where my top clung to my curves, leaving little to the imagination. “They’re perfect. I could still taste them, feel them against me.” Then, with a playful glint, he added, “I almost wished they’d give up some milk, just to make it even sweeter.”
His words caught me off guard, and I burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up like champagne, filling the treehouse with our shared joy. “Oh, you’re ridiculous!” I teased, swatting his arm lightly, but the image he painted sent a warm flush through me, a mix of amusement and desire. We laughed together, the kind of laughter that felt like an embrace, drawing us closer in the glow of the candlelight. His presence, his humor, his unfiltered adoration it was everything I loved about being with him, every moment a thread weaving us tighter together.
But as our laughter faded, I noticed a subtle tension in his expression, a slight furrow in his brow. My heart tugged with concern, and I reached for his hand, my fingers lacing through his. “Are you okay, baby?” I asked softly, searching his face. He shook his head, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “No, I’m not,” he admitted, his voice low. Before I could ask why, he glanced downward, his eyes directing mine to the unmistakable bulge in his shorts, still straining against the fabric, a testament to the fire we’d been stoking all evening.
I couldn’t help it I laughed again, a soft, affectionate sound that escaped before I could stop it. The sight of him, so affected by me, was both endearing and empowering. But then, seeing the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, I softened, my tone shifting to one of gentle seriousness. I leaned closer, my hand resting on his thigh, my thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of his shorts, just close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. “Baby,” I said, my voice low and reassuring, “why didn’t you tell me sooner? You know I’ll always take care of you.” My words were a promise, laced with devotion and a hint of playful authority, my eyes locking with his to let him know I meant every syllable. The air between us thickened with anticipation unction
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