Master of Backdoor Bliss

He kept stroking gently, drawing every last aftershock out of her until she went boneless against him, tears drying on her cheeks, pussy still fluttering weakly around the finger buried inside her. XXX Guilt screamed at her to delete the message, block the number, pretend last night never happened. That night she sat at her desk pretending to do homework, thighs clenched so tightly her muscles ached. Unknown number:
You left your pink hair tie on the basement couch. She had never come before—never like this. Ryan appeared once the neighbors’ lights went out, rolling a joint with the same calm fingers that once tied Emma’s shoes when she was six.