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No, it wasn’t the keeping it real part. It wasn’t even the part where you sang for me – I can still hear you say “people pay me good money for that” or words to that effect. Beautiful singing, but I don’t think that was when that moment of clarity came. Or the kisses either. Oh my, those kisses. Gentle, slow, sometimes our lips barely touching, but always coming back for another kiss, equally gentle, equally tender. I love those kisses, but that wasn’t where the uncertainty ended either. It. With seductively swaying hips they circled around me until the "Purple Girl" had positioned herself between my spread and bound legs. She then launched into a series of movements in which she divested herself of the top of her swim suit (revealing fluorescent purple pasties covering her nipples, of course), wrapped her bikini top around the pillar of my rock-hard erection, genuflected as if in worship to the altar of my cock, and bent forward to take holy communion by swallowing my plum-colored. ’ Ariel was flustered, her cheeks starting to glow and she felt caught. Hastily she shook her head. ‘But I’m not.’ She said. ‘I swear I’m not.’ ‘Sshhh.’ Miss Kvorak said. ‘Nothing to be ashamed about, sometimes you fall in love with a teacher.’ She shrugged. Ariel wasn’t even sure she was truly in love with Miss Kvorak, she was jealous of her athletic dancers body, that’s for sure, maybe she was even a bit obsessed with those long limber legs. She liked the hands of Miss Kvorak gently. Young French males had to be seen in the same sorts of chic clothing as their girlfriends. So I was kitted out like everyone else - to see and be seen. I was back in Michelle's room as she was holidaying with friends in Corsica at the time of my arrival.Sylvie and I seemed to join seamlessly as if we had never been parted. We hung out at the pool hour after hour and drifted from home to home, party to party as teenagers will. It all seemed just so right until the letter arrived from home.Inside.
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