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I decided to lay low and try not to be obvious. It didn't work.Terry started it, saying, "I bet I give a better blow job than you can."Jennifer responded, "Prove it. I bet you can't get a cum from Sal." I knew I was in trouble now.Terry said, "Sure I can. He's not bad looking and I owe him for saving me from that beast. I can get him to cum hard for me. Watch!"She moved over in front of me and started unfastening my pants. Jennifer came to one side of me and helped her. I had to unzip or they would have ripped them. Terry pulled them off with Jennifer's active assistance. Both of them were sloppy drunk but, at least, they were happy drunks. When my pants were off, Terry knelt and took my fairly hard cock in her hand and lowered her mouth over the head of it. She licked it and then took it in her mouth and swallowed me right to the root. Jennifer watched with her mouth open because she had trouble doing that when she had tried it.Terry started moving up and down on my cock working me. Preparing for her day at her job. I crossed also and sat on a bench nearby doing the same. For me it was part of my daily routine. For her, it seemed she had found a new place of beauty and solitude to assist in steeling herself to face the day.We are aware of each other's proximity. We are aware that we are the subject of each other's reverie. We are each aware that the other is also aware. I see the yearning in her posture. In the way she turns briefly, just enough to catch me in the corner of her eye. I am just the right distance away to reinforce the feelings of mutual attraction and mutual respect. She remains on my left, backlit by the morning sun, and I am stimulated from drinking her presence in.I see a woman who is more beautiful than her competition, my wife, but perhaps beautiful is not the correct term. More attractive, but possibly only because familiarity with my wife has bred ennui. Her husband would probably feel the same about her and might have similar thoughts.
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Jeremy was not feeling obliged to keep anything belonging to her; everything she personally owned was in one huge pile. She figured she was lucky that he hadn't poured petrol over it all and lit it. Her Dad had picked her up on his bike again, carrying her most necessary clothing which fit into a small suitcase and between their bodies as they rode. Then they transferred to one of the family cars, which he had hidden in a family-owned house in Caringbah, as the garage had a front and a rear roller door entrance to a right-of-way laneway. He hid the bike by riding it into the front door of the house and into one of the bedrooms. In the boot of the car he had brought two empty suitcases, so after a good relieving cuddle and cry her dad did the one thing that the press wouldn't expect. He rode back to Woronora. There she packed everything she could into the new suitcases.Her next court appearance, supposedly simply a mention, was due in a month: the Police Department weren't in any.

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