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The woman shrugged her shoulders. She vanished from the laboratory for a week, a week of oddly interesting days. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. I haven’t taken much account of it until now. She felt conscious of her nipples becoming visibly erect under the tight t-shirt and wished that she owned a thicker brassiere. They are not your flowers. “For great passions, for great accomplishments.
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This video was uploaded to siguava.com on 29-05-2024 03:40:39
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