“Big Daddy, we should stop,” she breathes, sifting her fingers through my hair as I kiss my way down her throat and collarbone, finally dropping to my knees in my own kitchen. I look up at her and she looks down at me. The moment ripples with heated tensions, but her subtle head nod tells me everything I need to know: she’s on board. With her consent, I abandon my egregious erection and tug down her shorts, discovering she is pantiless. “You’re not wearing fucking panties?” the question erupts from me, jagged and vexing. “From now on, Winnie, you better fucking wear panties. Do you hear me?” I
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