Thankfully, the maid service was here earlier in the day, because the Everest of sweats and stale socks wasn’t conducive to me getting any action. The fireplace I managed to start was providing all the heat we needed, but there were more than enough fires between us already.Abigail was pressed close to me and now, the straps of cotton holding up the dress separating myself and her breasts were sliding off, each inch a countdown to what was underneath. ‘I’m beginning to think blue is my favorite color,’ I said as she revealed her navy and white bra, and that dress was beginning to look like a liability.I wasn’t one to mind with bras, but this baby needed attention, just like everything else about Abigail. Tracing my fingers along the cup of the silky fabric, I found home base, and attended to her blooming nipple underneath the fabric. She purred against my touch, hands tracing my upper body. A firm pinch had her head lurched back and fingernails biting my chest.‘Fuck Lucas. Take this. Krysta peered out over the steering wheel. "Well, it's hardly Baghdad," Krysta said.Madeleine smiled. "Well perhaps this is our magic carpet." A Volkswagen Magic Carpet!" Krysta laughed in turn."At least it would solve the energy crisis."The suburbs gave way to the Essex countryside, Essex to Cambridgeshire and Cambridgeshire eventually to Norfolk.They began the last stage of their drive, working their way slowly through the gloomy evening along narrow country lanes to their final destination. It was dark when they reached their destination and Krysta's Volkswagen pulled in through an open white gate that hung from a brick and flint pillar. She drove up a short length of gravel drive and swung around, passing beside a battered Land Rover and a small sailing dinghy on a launching trailer. As Krysta turned the car again, Madeleine could see enough of where they were headed in the car's headlights to exclaim, "That's not a cottage. It's a windmill!"Krysta laughed. "Isn't it fantastic? I.
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