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My fingers slithered up and down her tight little crack and lightly over her anus. My hands gently commanded each leg to spread a bit giving me greater access to her wanton pussy. In this position, with her legs spread, I massaged the hot oil onto her outer regions. Her pussy lips were swollen and seemed to match the temperature of the oil. In long strokes, I massaged up and down her outer lips, not yet penetrating her with an eager finger. Her butt was raised, her little body twisted a bit to give my fingers and hands best access. Despite the slipperiness of the oil, she was now double lubricated as I could tell that her own womanly juices were oozing abundantly. Nuny was moaning and groaning. I felt that she was nearing an orgasm, what I hoped would be her first orgasm of many. This was fast but then I have always believed that quality foreplay is the mother of all good orgasms. My fingers danced lightly over her clit; she shuddered each time contact was made. She repositioned her. If this train crashed, he was protected by and surrounded by so many human airbags. Not able to move anywhere but up, he’d be cushioned by so many bodies that he didn’t think he’d be hurt, that is, so long as the train car he was on stayed intact and didn’t disintegrate upon impact. The last train home before they shut down the rail line for passenger and employee safety, there was a raging blizzard going on outside. Another train moving down the tracks ahead of them, the slow snowplow train in the way of an ice cutting ship carefully moving in the South Pole breaking up the ice, slowly cleared the tracks ahead of them only as fast as the tracks were covered with ice and snow again. A bumpy ride, on again and off again, the lights continually extinguished every time the train stopped and, every time the train stopped, the women would gasp and let out a little scream as if they were riding a dangerous ride at the amusement park. Seemingly as if he was the only man mistakenly put on.
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