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He scrubs a hand over his face in an attempt to quell what I’m sure is the urge to laugh again. While he wages a battle with his amusement, I fight one against the drive to rub myself against the stubble I hear scratching his palm. Is it soft? Prickly? Would it take away from the soft pillows of his lips when we kiss? How would it feel between my thighs? Aaaand holy Dory I seriously need to learn how to stay on topic. Nemo isn’t the only thing we need to find; my self-control seems to be missing too.
