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Even so she could feel herself blushing at what she did want.She tried to ignore it. The massage was making her lethargic. Her muscles were too tired now. That's what she told herself.For some time she didn't move; couldn't make herself go either way. The tendrils wonderfully, efficiently, maddeningly worked her muscles to butter softness, creating the pleasure of vanished pain, while scrupulously avoiding other kinds. Yet despite the lack of stimulation, Rachel grew hotter with each passing minute. It crossed her mind that this could be another phantom game, playing with her by not playing with her. Making her want that which she had fought (and lost) against so many times before. The problem was, if that were true, it was working.Finally, without thinking about the decision, she shook her arms from the loose grip of the tentacles. They let her go reluctantly, reaching after her as she slipped her arms free, but not ensnaring her like they could - like they had before. She was still. He remembered from our talks that I loved that wine. We quickly dived into the small talk. He was easy to talk to and even though this was only our second time in person, it felt like I was with an old friend. It felt amazing to be able to talk to adults again. Since moving to Ohio, I had been working from home. When our daughter was a year old, I quit my job to be a stay at home mother. A few short months after that we moved to Ohio where my husband had grown up. I didn’t have any friends my age that weren’t linked Jason in anyway. He had great friends here, but it was different because they weren’t my friends. The next few hours blurred by and I honestly cannot recall much of it but can tell you that it was several glasses of wine later. I wasn’t drunk but let’s just say things were a little blurry at this point. I checked my watch and it was already 1030pm. I had told my dad that I would be back no later than 11. It was time that I started to head home because I knew my daughter.
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