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When the apartment went back to its silent watch for the night. It was the same routine on Sunday. Chris was gone by morning, his bedding neatly folded on the ottoman.
Where he'd gone, I had no clue. He hadn't left a note either day.
For a moment, he did nothing-said nothing-but stare at me. Slowly, he pulled the sheet away, revealing my heaving breasts. His tongue darted out, licking his lips as he ground his cock against me. Then he stilled again.
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Repeating from back to front, weaving patterns he knew from memory. We'd done this so many times, I knew myself just by feel that this would be the basic version. Two double-rows of rope under my breasts as well as above that wrapped all the way around. In front, the rope would also make a V-shape between my breasts and go back over my shoulders.
"I know it's not exactly what you wanted. but it has to be better than none at all. " He stepped to the side, revealing a sign on the door stating that the normal soup kitchen was serving a free, three-course meal with all the fixings until seven o'clock today. His face was suddenly blurry when I reached up to kiss him.