book cover of The Captive of Delight

The Captive of Delight

A novel by

 Fatima smiled, and reached her hand down to begin stroking her clitoris, while Emine palmed her own breast. It was once an arousing sight, and I moved my personal hand down between my gentle folds, feeling the slightly moist warmness which signalled I was already a little grew to become on. My hairless pores and skin felt tender and pleasant, and I pushed one finger internal myself, hooking it barely and feeling the first sparks of pleasure.

“Add another finger,” Fatima instructed. I appeared up to see that both of them had been touching themselves too, taking part in the show I was giving them. I pushed in any other finger and started out a slow rhythm, pushing the digits in simply to the 2nd knuckle, hooking them to attain the spot which was once starting to make my blood pump quicker and my pores and skin heat up.

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