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They quickly found out that they were no longer that friendly with the young lord Avery-Smythe. He had even gotten into a couple fights as a teen over 'besmirched' honor. He was a 'gentleman' in the fine old sense of the word, and was everything it implied.In fact, the more I studied him, the more I liked him. He was everything I wanted to be! Also, I still did not pick up on anything that remotely looked like 'council'; or what I new of that organizations influence, anywhere in John's life. On the fourth day, I decided to take the plunge.It was Friday, and I knew he would be leaving the city for his country estate, two hour's drive from London. He had a flat in London for when he worked late, or had to be in the House early. Other than that, he went home. And, he always went home on the weekends.He loved his wife very much, and missed her when he couldn't get home. He always called and talked with her on those days.I called his office. I knew he was in. After they answered, I. ” Her knees drift slightly apart. He remembers, but he’s not about to tell her how well. Silence and heat swim between them like schools of fish. One of her thighs relaxes, cocks slightly aside and opens the curtain no wider than an anxious whisper. “What makes you think I don’t remember?” She almost pouts, but not quite. Fingers curl around his cockshaft, squeeze until a bubble of precum oozes. He thumbs the fluid around his dome. Slow seconds pass and her knees drift wider. Her nipples are the darkest, most arrogant thing about her while that intoxicating slit between her thighs is demure. Her knees drift again, sumptuous curves opening like night blooming cereus. “Not talk to me. Stay far.” The strolling couple are close enough to skirt the edges of their privacy. He’s dark haired while his mate is petite and blonde. They sink down on wet sand. He kisses the blonde and caresses her breasts. “I’m not so far away now.” And he takes hold of her ankle. Her other heel pushes.
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