Adriano When I come back down, freshly showered and with just my sweats, my breath stalls. She is in the kitchen, her back to me as she tries to reach a higher shelf of the snack cupboard on tip toes. She is in little peach pajamas… cotton with matching lace on the edges, barefoot and hair in a messy bun, damp tendrils sticking to her neck. Her hand reaches up, elongating her little frame and arching her back, the camisole top rides higher exposing a strip of smooth creamy skin and the narrowest waist. My dick gives an interested twitch, fingers itching to span that little waist and feel if that skin is as soft as it looks. She jumps up trying to get something just out of reach and the firm round mounds of her ass jiggle. I groan inwardly, my dick is more than interested now. As fun as this show was, it was also torture. I adjust my throbbing length before speaking. “What are you wanting little Pope?” I ask half amused, half exasperated. She turns around, all big eyes and
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