Kasey’s POV The scent of my mom’s favorite strawberry shampoo filled the room as she gently worked a wide-tooth comb through my damp hair. Her voice was a soft, melodic hum as she narrated a story I knew by heart."..and he just stood there, leaning against that beat-up old truck of his, not a care in the world," she murmured, her fingers deftly working through a minor knot. "I thought he was the most arrogant boy I’d ever seen. But he just looked at me with those eyes and said, 'Get on, or stop staring, sweetheart. You’re holding up the line'."It was her favorite story, the one about how she met my dad. I’d heard it a million times, and normally, I’d be hanging on every word, lost in the romance of it all. But tonight, my mind was a million miles away. It was on a windswept cliff, tangled with the memory of a tall, tattooed man with stormy grey eyes and devastating dimples. A man with a thick, impressive, curved cock that had tasted like heaven on my tongue.The memory of its weig
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