The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 8 (Part 15)

The tidal bore smashed through the dike when his left thumb stroked my precious pearl. The undertow of my third consecutive orgasm swept my consciousness away. I vaguely remember swooning, and shoulders pinning my knees to my chest. Then, hot fluid splattering my skin. The room spun as we waltzed. Velvet tickled my thighs. There was a damp cloth draped across my breasts. The ticking clock sounded overly loud. At one of the floor to ceiling windows, the warm morning light was partially eclipsed by a short man, hands behind his back, staring out at the brick enclosed herb garden.

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