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Volume IDuring lunch, I also worry about them.
(Ah, now, besides worrying where I'll get another cup with Snoopy and Woodstock to brush my teeth, but it's a relief knowing that my nightingale didn't grab Ryan's penis)
Lizzie can't cook and Marisol isn't very good at cooking either. In fact, she can eat instant ramen for the whole week and doesn't like ordering food over the phone, knowing we have food in the fridge or pantry.
But Lizzie is a natural element, as I mentioned before.
While I like cookies with chocolate chips, pizzas, and hamburgers, and Marisol likes pastries and sweets, Lizzie likes fruits and vegetables, which were also included in our monthly basket.
Our diet has always been mainly yummy legumes, vegetables, and meat three times a week, so we didn't have many problems with nutrition.
However, her preference for fresh fruit made me think that the little ones couldn't be getting enough vitamins, so I had to start preparing fruit desserts and really, we've noticed the difference, as we feel more energetic.
When she moved in with us, she was one of those girls who looked at food calories and partly it was understandable, because she worked as a waitress and her tips depended on her physical appearance and charisma.
But I think I'm a good cook and I've opened up her palate. Apart from trying the delicious kale and spinach tortillas that Marisol loves, I've also taught her to eat artichokes, broccoli, and asparagus.
For her, they are somewhat exotic foods, since they're more expensive, not everyone knows how to prepare them or serve them (although it's easy) and they're consumed in upscale restaurants like the ones she used to work at.
I introduced her to a new world when I taught her to eat artichokes, something that Marisol finds very funny. My dad taught me how to line up the leaves in a row. For that reason, I ended up building a kind of castle around the main body and what Lizzie liked most was the delicate and smooth flavor of the vegetable heart mixed with salt, vinegar, and lemon acidity in the vinaigrette.
As a result, my protests were dismissed on Friday mornings.
Why are you complaining? I've eaten fruit for three months and never bothered you! Lizzie pointed out.
Yes, love! How can you complain if we're eating healthy? Marisol supported her, eating a banana naturally.
But again, they breakfasted in their underwear: Marisol with one of those thin black bras that no one else should see except me and a semi-transparent lace bra that showed her nipples. And Lizzie with a thin white thong with red borders, along with the top I mentioned earlier.
Are you telling me... if I do this... it bothers you? Lizzie challenged me, licking the piece of banana.
And Marisol maliciously smeared the banana in the pot with condensed cream, so when she brought it to her mouth, the corner of her mouth was stained white.
Yes! I replied, making them laugh in complicity. Come on, girls! You're not being fair to me!
Lizzie burst out laughing.
Now we're not being fair to you! she retorted with my comment. What are you talking about?
I mean that you're tempting me!
They enjoyed making me suffer, so they pretended not to understand.
Tempting?... let's see, tell me, how am I tempting you? Lizzie asked, knowing me well enough to believe I wouldn't be able to express myself.
Well... is there any food that reminds them of some sensitive part of their body?
My nymphs started thinking seriously.
I mean... there are shellfish, which can make a clear allusion to what they have... But do you think it would seem sensual if I saw you eating that?
The question was slightly uncomfortable, especially for Marisol.
Well... I don't know!... almost never see you when... comes… ahí… responded my nightingale, very ashamed.
Lizzie, on the other hand, wanted to keep fighting.
“Then... if you see me eating this... Do you mean... that you want me to eat something... from your body?” she asked, with greater interest.
Breakfast was turning out in my favor.
“I don’t know!” I replied. “If you like seeing me eat shellfish, does it mean that there is some part of your body that you want me to eat?”
My two nymphs were very embarrassed because I do it quite well and neither of the two had the courage to respond to me.
After declaring myself the winner, I didn't feel too ashamed to go to the bathroom to pee and finally, I could be the first person my little ones saw that day.
After lunch, Marisol went to sleep, while Liz and I washed the dishes.
I was wearing a long striped skirt with Hawaiian shirts and a white sweater with red, orange, and yellow lines parallel to each other, crossing from her left shoulder to her waist.
On the other hand, I wore jeans, a red sweater, and sneakers.
“Lizzie, I wanted to ask you: Why don't you take your days off?”
For a few brief seconds, her cute pink freckles hid under the blush on her cheeks.
“It's obvious... Marisol and you may need me... and the little ones may cry if they don't see me.” She replied, drying the plates with greater animosity.
I stopped scrubbing the pot and looked at her directly in the eyes.
“Lizzie, those days off are yours by right. You're a young, beautiful girl... you should have a boyfriend your age.”
And with the coquetry she put on when we first talked, she bent down, supporting herself with one hand on her waist.
“Do you think I'm pretty?” she asked, trying to sound defiant but only looking at me seemed like a leaf trembling in the wind. “Wouldn't it bother you if I knew a boy?”
I resumed my work.
“Of course not! It's your right!”
“I see...” she said more disheartened.
“Although I would be sad.” I added.
“Really?” she asked, recovering her mood coqueto.
Now that I'm writing this, I've realized that I always do this: achieve a relatively romantic moment with someone else, then disappoint them by saying the relationship is impossible, but add something to recover their hopes.
I think it's very associated with the idea that I don't serve for this and it comes out spontaneously.
I'm happy with Marisol's love, but I'm unable to reject another woman's affection and I don't think it's because I'm lustful.
In my youth, I declared myself a couple of times, but always had negative responses. Maybe the worst was making her laugh in front of my friends or not being discreet enough with my feelings.
But I've already been on that side of the fence (the rejected side) and it's very uncomfortable. I would have loved it if they had been sweet to me and explained in good terms that my feelings weren't reciprocated.
Unfortunately, not all women are as romantic as Marisol or if they are, they weren't with me before meeting her.
!You'd worry about me a lot, Lizzie! I said, caressing her cheeks with my foamy hands. A disco at night, just you alone. If anything happens to you...
Oh, come on, I'm an adult! she exclaimed smiling. Nothing will happen!
I've learned a lot from you! I replied.
And we gave each other a kiss.
I also noticed that Lizzie didn't take her days off, but we managed to go out with her a couple of times to art museums.
Honestly, even before meeting her, looking at paintings for me was equivalent to looking at a photo. I wouldn't pay much attention to the landscape or people portrayed because I would forget the moment after thousands of other photos.
But looking at a painting accompanied by someone who understands art is completely different.
I marveled at the amount of information Liz could deduce from a painting, whether modern, portrait, or landscape.
The details she noticed passed us completely unnoticed for Marisol and me would help us understand about the era, people, and types of personality of models, depicted in portraits.
Even, it was able to perceive the artist's sentiment at the moment of painting, both in abstract works and landscape paintings, focusing only on the forms of spreading the brush and the game of ambient light in the work, in a way that reminded me of Rorschach tests.
Of course, men like Fred are too bad to enter a museum, but for people like us, strangers from distant lands and amazed by Australian culture's idiosyncrasy, a museum wasn't a forbidden space.
She smiled while releasing her bra. It's okay... You're a married man! I lowered my pants with impatience. It ripped a bit and she complained, surprised. But you... a bed... I said, relieving myself by introducing the tip into her wet and tight slit, with the same feeling of guilt that I had taken from Hannah in the truck days ago.
Ahhh!... Don't worry... It's not so bad! She would say, sighing as she went deeper. It's not so bad!
Marisol also likes it this way because she says my movements are faster and more intense.
I'm not sure if the intensity will be greater, but since I don't rely on gravity to move my hips, it does speed up the frequency of thrusts quite a bit. In a vertical position, withdrawal is much more exhausting, as in my case, besides the friction exerted by the vaginal canal on my penis and the suction generated by the woman, I also have to carry the weight of my belt.
However, in this position, the weight of my belt is irrelevant, which provides greater efficiency to the movements of my pelvis. these moments.
The thrusts of my body were so powerful that Liz's flesh was shaking violently and her wonderful breasts seemed to vibrate like gelatin.
It's so strong!... It's so strong!... she exhaled, affirming herself on my neck with firmness as she went along burning.
Meanwhile I, apologized to her without stopping pumping.
Feel sorry for making you do this, Lizzie!... Really, I brought you here... to take care of my daughters!... I'm a bad boss! I said, pumping harder and harder.
Gah!... Don't worry about it!... she replied. I accepted... because I wanted... to take you again!
She grabbed her breasts, which were burning with passion and her nipples were very swollen.
We were both on the verge of excitement. Finally, when we felt like we couldn't hold back anymore, we gave each other a kiss to silence our roar.
Such... cum! she said to me, playing with my lips. Never... have they filled me up so much!
Regretful, I tried to pull out.
I'm sorry! It's too big!
But she hugged me tightly, so I wouldn't move.
No, no! It's fine like this! she said, happy to have me inside her. Freddy would shrink a little... but you...
She gave a lustful sigh. She likes having me inside.
After we separated, she got down on all fours, not caring that my juices were coming out of her stretched-out slit.
Your one is different, miner! she said, licking the remains that were left. You don't come down so quickly!... You grab for hours and hours and you never get tired!
And she started climbing up my waist, looking at me with her eyes.
And you're tender... she said, giving me a sticky kiss. I've seen you all this time... and I like you. That's why I don't leave.
We started kissing again and she was starting to rub against me.
No, Lizzie, no! I begged, although her hand was amazing. My little girls... are going to wake up!
She smiled at my resistance.
A good father... all the time...
And saying that, she started sucking until I came.Next post
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