Carefully abstaining from thrusting against each other, Ann Veronica and her father began an absurdly desperate struggle, the one to open the door, the other to keep it fastened. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM3LjIxMi4yMjggLSAxMC0wNi0yMDI0IDAzOjAyOjE2IC0gMjEzMzE0OTI3
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