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Without saying another word to Dusty, she turned and fled through the door. Standing outside in the hallway, she took several deep breaths, trying to regain her composure.Her pulse was still racing, and her cunt wet. She decided to take the elevator down to the building lobby. Maybe a quick walk around the block would calm her down enough for her to go back to work.While she was waiting for the elevator, her boss Mr. Shuman walked by. He was young, about thirty, and very handsome, with shaggy brown hair, a square jaw, and broad shoulders. And Shari knew he had the hots for her. His grey-blue eyes were always undressing her.He was no different now. His eyes lingered on the buttons of her blouse as if he would like to unfasten each one slowly. He stopped to talk to her. Shari grew nervous."Well, hi, there, Shari," he said calmly, his eyes on her swelling young tits under her blouse. "I haven't seen you very much lately. I guess I've been too busy." Hi, Mr. Shuman," she said, trying to. My cock was throbbing now. Then Chu got on her knees and Elena climbed on and straddled her back as if riding a horse. She twisted her body at an angle to hide her breasts and her long hair fell down back across her shoulder. The photographer moved around them, taking hundreds of photos. The flash was going off almost continuously. Finally they were done and Elena and Chu put on their robes and came over to greet me. I had to stay seated so that my hard-on wouldnt be so obivious. Elena asked how I liked the shoot and I just said something dumb like, “Uhh, it was really great. You guys work very well together”. They both laughed and I let out a little snort. Elena said that Chu and her boyfriend wanted to take us to dinner afterward and I said sure. Then they went back to the dressing room and it took about an hour for them to finally come back out. When they emerged they were dressed to kill and my mouth dropped open. Elena had on a sequin covered sliver mini-skirt with a small.
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I could feel the damage in him, I knew that damage by name. My father had healed me and shown me love. He had held me, made love to me, made me whole. This poor boy, had none of that. He had nothing and no one. I held him, and fell into me. His suicide attempt had been genuine, and not a plea for help, he had cut his wrists hoping for revenge, out of anger and pain. Only to discover while he was healing, that his parents thought it was selfish, that they had offered judgement and condemnation only thinking of themselves. I cried with him. The whole story had been told, and his aunt being the only part worth telling. I understood completely, his obsession, I wanted to tell him of my own obsession. Of my own forbidden love of my father, of our sin, and how glorious it was. But I did not, this wasn't about me. Even though we were near in age, I had taken the more authoritative role. He had never been allowed to grow, and in many aspects was still just a boy. No, he had not.

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