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‘But I hardly know you, like.’ ‘To a café. There are a few near the Kasbah.’ ‘Oh, in a café. Aye, of course. We’ve been drinking that we...rd Moroccan tea. Mint tea. It’s reet sweet, like.’ ‘I prefer coffee. Café cassé. Or café au lait.’ ‘Yeah. I could do with a cuppa, me.’ They sat outside a café at a table on the pavement. The waiter swivelled the huge parasol so they were both in the shade of the fierce North African sun. Paul seemed ill at ease but insisted on buying the drinks. He struggled. She rolled them over so that she was squatting over his face.That left me on my knees with Joe's limp cock right in front of me. Lena took hold of it and flopped it around, looking at me. She crooked her finger and I leaned forward. It was hot -- I mean temperature hot. That surprised me. It was musky and had a rubbery texture. As I started to lick and suck on him, he hardened in my mouth. I was able to hold less and less of it in my mouth, but I tried my best.The thought that I was sucking. She looked like one of the attractive girls that were at my school. I remember not being able to look away from her exposed legs. The short wavy cheer leading skirt she had on seemed to only look good on her. The other ladies on the team were nice to look at too, but my mom seemed to have more of a shine in her smile. Like she meant it. It wasn't fake.After a year went by I somehow forgot about the pictures she showed me in her yearbook when I was 17. It might have been because I'd gotten. For some reason, I decided that that the laundry room was the place for my new adventure in masturbating.The room is available to the tenants 24/7, so I decided on a late night excursion to minimize the chance of accidental discovery. I chickened out on Tuesday night, but Wednesday night (Thursday morning, really), dressed in only hiking shorts, T-shirt and a pair of Vans, I descended the stairs to do the deed.I was nervous as I slipped into the laundry room—unoccupied—but the idea of what I.
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