With her parents. Her mother sat knitting, and her father, Mr. Pettibone sat glazed over and motionless, like some sort of ceramic sculpture, watching...nothing but the blue glare off the set. "Jesus," Sharon felt like screaming, "don't you all want to do something else?"But she stifled the tiny scream and went about her business, that being sitting still and watching the tube. "Oh, God," she moaned inside her head, "isn't there some way out of this?" She stood up and said aloud: "I'm going to do. But they were probably swollen with arousal. Her vulva was dark red. Her arousal was obvious. My tale of being a helpless sexual pawn seemed to have quite an effect on her. I could see a faint trace of moisture in her crease. It was reflecting light from the windows beside her.Next I noticed her scent. It wasn't the musky smell of an aroused vagina or even the smell of someone who had worked half the day sitting at a desk. Instead I detected only the light fragrance of what I could tell was a. More

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