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My breasts were aching now, too. I pressed them harder against the couch, trying to suppress my own arousal, and rose up on my knees.
I hadn't counted on you always being here.
This one had knocked me flat on my back, and I couldn't find the strength to get back up again.
He picked me up princess-style and carried me down the hall.
Flicked at the ring and ball protruding from the top.
Until a year ago. It all started to make sense.
The next morning, I found cans of chicken noodle soup and clear juice stocked in the kitchen; tissues and pain relievers in the bathroom; and bedding folded on the ottoman. But there was no sign of Chris.
We hadn't discussed what I was going to say next. I prayed he would be on board.