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Courthouse Security
Part 26

by Graham

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 15 Aug 2012

It was 11:40 when Captain Tom Miller parked his truck a couple of blocks from the courthouse and began walking to the locked entrance. He had just hung up from calling his parents to let them know he'd arrived safely. In answer to the questions where he would be staying, and when he planned to leave to come home, he told them, "the Best Western motel, and probably Sunday afternoon."

Dialing Miguel's cell phone, he heard the answer, "This is officer Coronado."

"Corporal Coronado?"

"Ye-es, ah, who is this?"

"Corporal, it's your Captain, Tom Miller!"

"Tuh-omm?! Um, Captain, sir? Where are you? What're you doing, sir?"

"I'm right outside the door, and I'm visiting the best, damn corporal the U.S. Army ever produced? Haa-aaa!" he laughed. "Can you let me in?"

"Ah, um, I, ah, okay, um, for a minute, but, ooooo, heck, I'm coming right now!" Miguel stammered. Hurrying to the door, he unlocked it and let the slim, tall captain enter.

Tom rushed in, waiting while Miguel re-locked the door. Then, pausing, he stared momentarily at his young friend, and then reached out and grabbed him, pulling him up into himself, hugging him tightly. Miguel, in return, wrapped his arms around his captain, embracing him back. The gaunt, bony feel of Captain Miller, even under his jacket, startled Miguel, as he realized Tom was more slender and lean than he'd ever felt before.

"Hey, buddy, how are you? You look great! Man, I've missed you!" Tom gushed, still holding Miguel. As he felt himself lowered him back onto his feet, Miguel thought to himself, then why did you ignore my calls and text messages, and why didn't you call?

Instead, he replied. "Good, sir. Me too. Why're you here, Tom?"

"To see you, Miguel. It's been too long, and I really need to talk with you. Can we get together tonight – after you get off work?"

Miguel was stumped. The smell and feel of Captain Tom Miller awoke something inside that could not resist this man. Yet, he was expected back home by Billy. "Ah, I'd like that, sir, um, Tom. I"ll need to call and make sure it's okay," he fudged, to let Tom think he was talking about calling his mother and stepfather.

"Okay, great. Can I use a bathroom real quick?" Tom asked. Miguel showed him to one and waited until he came back out. "I'll wait for you in my truck, buddy," Tom offered.

"Where're you parked?"

"In the lot just two blocks away. You'll see my truck."

"Okay, but you better leave for now. I could get in trouble having you here," Miguel explained, remembering the blistering he'd gotten from the sergeant when he'd left the courthouse unlocked to retrieve his pizza. As he watched the slim, tall Captain walk out of sight, Miguel thought, Captain Tom Miller. There's nobody like him.

Once Captain Miller was gone, Miguel pulled out his cell phone and called Billy.

"Hello. Mike? What's the matter?"

He told Billy nothing was wrong, but there was something he needed to take care of with his mother and stepfather, so he would not be coming home tonight. "No, I can take care of it, thanks. I'll probably be back tomorrow night. . . . right, me, too. Good night." He felt guilt-ridden about lying to Billy, but he couldn't hurt him as telling him the truth would surely do.

As the new shift officer came on, and they shared information, Miguel's mind was drifting to thoughts of Tom, and catching up with him. As he left the building, he went to his Acura, then drove over to the lot where he spied Tom's truck.

"Follow me," Tom called out through the lowered window. "I'm back at the Best Western." Miguel did follow Tom's truck, his mind wandering to the times they had spent together in that truck.

At the Best Western, Tom stopped, went in and registered, then came out and said, "Room 121. Follow me." He drove around to the side and back of the building, parking in front of room 121. Miguel pulled in along side. Tom got out, grabbed his bag, and walked to the door, unlocking it and turning on the light.

The room was quite cool, and both youths felt it as they stepped in. Tom closed the door and locked it, then turned on the window heater unit. Miguel stood staring, first at the quite familiar room of the Muskogee Best Western, then at Tom moving around the room.

Suddenly, Miguel was aware of a squishy, melting feeling inside, like wax before heat. He had ignored, suppressed, but never really forgotten, Captain Tom Miller. Tom stopped and stood still, staring back at Miguel, looking him over, up and down, like an estimator putting a price or value on an object. But that was not the cause of the stillness. Neither one of them could find words to speak.

The momentary silence that hung in the air between them was agonizing. Tom felt like a hungry, predatory animal, instantaneously sizing his prey, at any moment, about to pounce. Acting consistent with their usual, aggressor and passive roles, with the instincts and drive of a predator, Tom made the first move on his handsome prey.

Pulling Miguel to him, he sunk his face and mouth into the younger corporal's. Their lips and mouths joined together, they kiss passionately with intense zeal, fanning the fires of passion. In the same moments, Tom picked Miguel up off the floor, hurriedly carried him to the bed, and dumped him backward onto it, leaping on top, sitting, his knees bent on either side of the flattened, young officer.

Immediately he was unbuckling, unzipping, and pulling down Miguel's pants and boxers down under his butt, down his thighs, past his knees to bunch at his feet. His hands were unbuttoning Miguel's shirt, then reaching up under his t-shirt, fondling and caressing his younger friend's abdomen, chest, and nipples.

They were writhing together in excited passion when Tom stopped, turned and untied and pulled of Miguel's shoes, followed by his socks, then his pants and boxers. The young corporal was nude from the waist down. Tom almost ripped the shirt and t-shirt off the corporal, burying his face in his neck, his chest, his abdomen, then his pelvis. Miguel was moaning more and more.

With even more excited haste, Tom kicked off his shoes, unzipped and pulled down and off his jeans and boxer briefs, and his jacket, shirt, and t-shirt. Both youths were naked with each other. Tom's hands lifted Miguel's legs up onto Tom's shoulders, then began circling the target between his buttocks. Miguel was squirming until Tom's mouth enveloped the young corporal's erect, engorged mast. Then he gasp aloud.

For both young men, who had been apart from each other for so long; but especially for Tom, who as been abstemious from sexual intimacy and activity for a long time, the electricity of sexual excitement and tension was highly charged. Miguel's humping and bucking on the bed mattress as Tom suctioned his member, opened his anal opening for intrusion and entrance by Tom's own craving manhood.

Suddenly, the crown of the shaft popped in, and Miguel gasped in air audibly. Slowly, but ineluctably, Tom pushed forward an deeper, steering the large, fleshly, warm, and amply filling column up into the corporal. Although he was by now often used to this love-making with Billy, Miguel was still surprised at the special feel of Captain Miller's rod within him; and it excited him more.

Miguel was twisting and clamping down on Tom's member, and as Tom's own squirming moved the pole around inside his buddy, both began feeling the quivering, light-headed, ecstasy that triggered internal orgasms for Miguel, but drove them both to external ejaculations as well – Miguel filling Tom's mouth, Tom filling Miguel. They were gasping, heaving, panting exhausted breaths as they lay together, Tom collapsed on Miguel, as together they descended from the rapturous height of passion to which they had transported each other.

"Ooooh, aaaaa-maaaan, Miguel!" Tom, gasping, whispered, leaning over Miguel and close to his ear. "That was soooo greaaat, little buddy! I needed that – soooo bad!"

Miguel, whose eyes were wide with near delirious recollection of being ravished by Captain Miller, could only coo "Oooo, yeaaah, Tom, me, toooo, Tom, " over and over, as his arms captured the long, gaunt Captain in a tight hug. They relaxed into a looser, entangling embrace, Miguel snuggled into Tom, gushing with almost rhapsodic wonderment, "Wow! Oh, wow! That was fantastic! Too much! Too great! Soooo-ooo- great! Ooooo, man, wow!"

In minutes, both young men had fallen asleep intertwined together. About an hour later, Tom was groggily awakened by feeling Miguel moving away from him. He sat up quickly to see Miguel, sleepy-eyed, staring up at him. Tom smiled. "Hey, buddy, let's talk. That's what I came for -- and, um, for this." He smiled self-consciously.

"What d'you mean?" Miguel asked surprised, looking surprised, but scooting up to sit on the bed, with the sheet wrapped around him. Tom was sitting cross-legged, naked on the bed within easy arm's reach of his young corporal.

Pausing, swallowing a couple of times, Tom's face grew serious as he began. "I mean this, Miguel. I've been a stupid, blind fool. I've been trying to ignore, denying, what you probably have been far more honest and aware of.

After you left – after the blizzard we got stuck in – I worked hard at being a good student, appreciating my life with my parents, running and training for conditioning, and looking for a girl friend. Eventually, I found one." He then related the entire story of meeting Lois Bivens, becoming deeply involved with her, then being dumped by her for her former fiancé whom she ended up marrying.

He explained about his becoming depressed and despondent, deviating from the focused, responsible life that had always characterized him. His quitting running, staying away out late, drinking, sleeping in, missing classes, not preparing. "Finally, my Dad couldn't take watching me like that any longer."

Tom explained about twice getting spanked hard by his Dad, that it was something he never imagined would happen again. It did, however, and it hurt bad, but just like when he was a kid, it worked, did the trick, had the intended results, and brought him back into line. He was back to being a good, diligently studying student, obeying and respecting his folks, and regaining his conditioning by running again.

"That must be why you're so thin, Tom," Miguel interjected.

"Yeah, probably so. But in the meanwhile, I've had a lot of time to think carefully, clearly, look at my life, and those of people around me, people I care about. What I realized, so late, is that I care about you, Miguel.

"No doubt about it: I've been denying it, pretending it wasn't there, pretending it was something else, ignoring it – ignoring you. From the time you disobeyed orders in Iraq to rescue your buddies and I punished you personally, and privately, for it; to the time we took action to save your life; to the many times I disciplined you personally with spankings – and then your discharge before me. Over all those things could never really get you out of my thinking and memory.

"Then our times together since we both left the Army – and especially our frozen, blizzard trip – if I'd been honest, I've been fighting against the obvious. It may have been all along to you – probably was. You're more honest and realistic, Miguel.

"Anyway, I know the truth now, and I'm tired of trying to run away from it. I know what you mean to me, Miguel. I know I love you, and I want you to be with me. I came all this way, personally, because I want to apologize for how stupid and foolish I've been, and tell you how I truly feel, what I now know is true.

"I want to be with you, Miguel. I want you to come with me. I don't think it'd be possible for us to live with my parents – it'd be a problem – but we can get an apartment; we both have the GI bill, and if that's not enough, we can get some part time work if we need to.

"We can make it work together, Miguel, like we made things work together in Iraq, only better, because we'll be honest – I'll be honest. I promise. What I'm getting at – I need to say it right out – is I love you, Miguel Coronado. I want you, want you to be with me – need you. Life won't be complete – it isn't complete – without you, buddy."

As he listened and followed Tom's explanation, Miguel's face reflected the waves of conflicting emotions washing over him. When Tom stopped, after the declaration that he wanted, needed, Miguel to go with him, Miguel responded slowly.

"Tom – Captain – I love you too. I know I have since we met, and you were my CO, in Iraq. There's nobody like you, Tom. But you sent me off, told me we couldn't work, then cut me off and had no contact. In the meanwhile, I met somebody – somebody who wanted me, actually. I've made a commitment him, and it's real, Tom."

"What?! You never told me, Miguel! Is that your plan, your wish, what you really want?"

"Wait a minute, Tom! We haven't talked in many months. You basically sent me off and abandoned me. I couldn't tell you anything, couldn't talk with you about anything! I wanted to hear from you, to see you, so bad; but there was nothing. What did you expect? What'd you think I should do? Wait for you – when there was no hint I was ever going to hear from you again?"

"Nooooo, Miguel. Don't tell me you don't care about me? You can't say that. Don't do this – not again," Tom's musing aloud displayed his devastated desperation.

"Look, Tom. I never said I don't care about you. I never can say that. I already said there's nobody like you. I'm sorry you made bad choices that have hurt you, and left you feeling alone. But you made your decision very clear and emphatic at the time. You can't run away from that fact.

"Look, I'm not your Dad, Tom, but you deserved the whippings he gave you. You made stupid choices, then when they began falling apart, you made more bad choices – really worse ones. He must have felt that you needed it – had it coming.

"In fact, at this moment, looking at the mess we both find ourselves in, all because of your stubborn, bad choices – because of what you've done to me, your friend, and to yourself – I have to say, you oughta be spanked. You deserve it, have it coming, ought to get one." There was an unusual, austere, serious, authoritarian tone in Miguel's voice.

Tom's face was strained, blanched, and his eyes had a frightened, damp sadness in them. He said nothing in response to Miguel for a couple of minutes, just staring at his friend, whom he now knew – and admitted – he loved. He had to prove to Miguel he meant what he said, that he was telling the truth, was willing to take whatever he had coming, needed, for bad behaviour.

"Okay, okaay, Miguel. You're right, I know. I'm sorry. Okaaay, you ca-an, um, do it. I'll take it. You're right. I deserve it, I admit it. I've been terrible, I know. I'm sorry, Miguel, you'll see. I mean it."

Something seemed to come over Miguel, animating him to take assume a take-charge attitude. He reached out in what could only be described as an unimaginable, dominating force, grabbing both, skinny arms of his superior officer, and pulling him forward, then dragging and sliding him across Miguel's legs, who had sideled around to sit on the bedside edge.

Tom became instantaneously nervous, panicky, anxious. There was something inapposite – something felt out of keeping – not quite right, about him hanging over the knees of his younger, junior officer, awaiting a spanking from him. He began huffing short, quick, heavy breaths to deal with his anxiety.

When the first few smacks from Miguel's hand connected with Tom's bony bottom, he jumped and gasped, as if prodded with an electrical charge. He couldn't get his mind and will to come to terms with what was happening. Yet, he remained in place, resigned to the reality that he needed to accept – he deserved – this from Miguel, and he needed to prove his sorrow and regret for what he'd done to his friend. But, oh, wow! It was beginning to sting, to hurt, for real. 

As the realization set in that this was starting to hurt, for real, conflicting emotions gripped him. Squirming and writhing around, bucking and kicking, he thought: this is weird, strange, not right. I'm the older one, the superior authority, I-aaaaa-uh-shu-ud beee-aaaa-spuh-aaanking him-huh-ooooooo-aaaaaa-aaaaaa-uh-ow!"

Miguel's hand has to be killing him, because it's killing me, he thought. As humiliating and bad as this is, it'll have to end soon, he thought. But he was wrong. Miguel paused momentarily, reached down and grabbed one of Tom's cross-country running shoes, and began applying it to the bare, red, hand-marked bottom of his Captain and friend.

That shocked Tom incredibly. This new treatment immediately captured his full attention. The impact was a lot harder, a lot hotter, a lot more lasting sting! And it didn't affect Miguel's hand at all. It was clear that Tom was hurting, but doing his best to stay in position.

That was when Tom came to terms with the fact he had resigned himself to getting spanked by Miguel, and it was happening, and was going to continue, until Miguel was ready for it to end. A trembling shudder rippled across Tom's lanky, gaunt body, while the blistering spanks with the sole of his shoe continued.

Tom found the mounting, fiery pain taking it toll, eroding his gritty determination to take this – the humiliation, the shame, the pain, the grief. He was bucking and thrashing around on his corporal's lap, as the repetitive, unending barrage torched his butt and upper legs. Miguel, whose own manhood was stirred again by the intimate, disciplinary conduct, swung his own leg over Captain Miller's legs, to hold them down and in place.

He could feel the Captain's member, aroused, touching, rubbing and scraping against Miguel's flesh as he flailed around on Miguel's lap being spanked. Feeling a sense of dominance and authority from the first role reversal in their long history, Miguel decided he would further control and position Captain Miller while he spanked him. He reached under Tom and seized the Captain's swollen rod in his hand, tethering and restraining him further.

Tom sucked in air hard and audibly, before crying out, "Noooo-ooooo-nah-ot thaaaaaat! Hoooo-nooooo-aaaaaaa!" As the swats with the shoe sole continued to sear his bottom and upper legs, Tom's thrashing movements also drove his boner around and back and forth in Miguel's hand. In so doing, he was feeling the combined, humiliating sensations of pain from being spanked severely, and shame, but yearning hunger, from the stimulating movements on his manhood.

The spanking seemed like it would never end. The inferno of pain increased, intensified; but it also heightened the excitement, spurring Tom to an unexpected ejaculation that fired shots of bursting climax all over – in Miguel's hand and on his legs, on Tom's legs and abdomen. With an exclamation mingled with sobs, Tom was a subdued, chastened, pathetic, abject wretch.

Other than his Dad, no one had ever inflicted such treatment on him, and he never would have allowed or endured it from anyone – except Miguel. He sobbed convulsively, brokenhearted, but with self-loathing for everything he had done bad that had led to this hapless situation. Only deep down in his psyche, he needed, knew he wanted, Miguel – no matter what.

The whirlpool of unexplored emotions set loose between them that night swept Miguel into a never before seen, dominant role, just as they produced in Tom a sorrowful, pathetic, victim submitting to the authoritarian control of his junior friend. With a force of strength that surprised them both, Miguel yanked Tom roughly and swiftly off his lap, tossing him onto his back on the bed. Then Miguel attacked.

His finger ran down between Tom's buttocks, pausing a moment to touch that special spot previously unseen by anyone other than his parents. He sucked in a sharp gasp of breathe when he felt Miguel's fingertip swirl at his rosebud hole, before returning slowly down again, retracing its route. His whole body spasmed, as Miguel repeated the process over and over, each time actually working his finger gently closer, then inside just a bit, and then snaking its way back up and in, deeper, caressing the canal it was traveling.

The feeling was new, daring, unknown, but triggering exquisite waves and sensations. He groaned into the pillow, instinctually spread his long, lean legs farther apart, and pivoted his hips a bit, disclosing he was enjoying what was transpiring. After a few moments of this, Miguel leaned over Tom. He felt the younger man's warm body against his back and the corporal's own throbbing prick against his aching, red, hot, stinging rump.

"Roll over," Miguel whispered the order in his ear. When there was no responsive activity by Tom, Miguel grabbed the narrow, bony hips and flipped the lanky Captain onto his back, then hoisted his legs up over the corporal's shoulders. Tom lay staring wide-eyed, spread out as a ripe target for Miguel's probing fingers. The young corporal found himself stimulated by the contact with his Captain's puckered bud, which seemed to be begging for attention. Miguel's shaft was trembling as it bucked against Tom's perenium, and moving forward slightly, the corporal began to let it slide in between Tom's warm, his greasy cheeks.

"Nooooooo, Miguel! Not thaaaat! Noooooo! I've, uh-uh, never, aaaaah, nooooo, aaaaaa, nobody has, aaaaaah, I've, aaaaa, neverrrrrr-aaaaaaah, let anybody doooo, um, thuh-aaaaaa-aaaaaat!" Tom yelled as Miguel once more fingered deep in the cleavage between the two, fire-engine red, hot, bony, muscled buns.

Sure enough, Tom was tight to Miguel's feeling, and he took it slow and gentle, letting his Captain get used to this experience. After working two fingers up and into the Captain, Miguel slid them out, as Tom's long, thin, muscled legs remained lifted up high, hooked over Miguel's shoulders.

Taking his penis in his hand, Miguel rubbed the head up, down, around, against the Captain's anus, which had Tom gasping, pleading, "Oh-no! Oh-no! Nooooo! Huh-aaaaa-Miguel, nooooo-aaaaa! Nooooooooooooooo-aaaa-ooooo-nooooooooooooooo! Please! Nooooooo! Don't. Dooooon't Noooooooooooo-uh-not-huh-uh-ooooo-pleaseeeeee! Nooooo! I don't want it, aaaaa, I doooon't, aaaaa, caaaan't, hooo-aaaaaaaa, taaaake it, aaaaaa-ooooooo-nooooo-aaaaaa!"

This foreplay left Tom completely unsuspecting and unprepared for the moment when Miguel zeroed in, driving slowly, but determinedly forward and in. As the tip of the smaller, wet cock suddenly pressed against the Captain's wet, tight hole, his eyes opened wide, his face contorted into an astonished look, and he gasped as he felt Miguel's thick penis stretch his tight hole, then slip inside, pushing forward and deeper as it entered him.

The corporal gently guided his member into the Captain's hole. He now knew for sure he was dealing with a virgin, and did not want to cause Tom any more discomfort than necessary. It was way more than a unique experience for Tom to have a penis penetrating and invading him, burying deep up inside. The virginal penetration felt like some devilish, white hot poker melting his flesh in its path – between his scorched, tender buttocks, on his sensitive hole, and within the invaded, chaste walls of his anal canal.

Miguel's shaft was nowhere near the size of Tom's; but being a virgin to this despoilment, Captain Miller's canal was narrow and tight, snugly encasing, even constricting, Miguel's comparatively smaller rod, which was inside him now, riding him, driving his rod further and further, to be embedded deeply all the way in.

Miguel proceeded to bury his shank deeper and deeper, until it was sunk completely, buried all the way in, his pubic hair scratching against Tom's scorched, spanked rearend. As Miguel began to slowly fuck Tom's tight, little hole, Tom shouted, "Oooo-aaaaa-noooo-ooooo-aaaaa-it's-aaaaaa-spuh-uh-uh-ow-ow-ow-oooo-hoooo-ow-uh-uh-litteeeenghaaaa-aaaaaaa-meeeeee-aaaaaa-noooo-hoooo-ooooo-uh-uh-aaaaaa- uh-paaaaaaaart!"

Miguel was considerate, easing, but unrelenting nonetheless, thrusting all the way in, then almost out, in and out, again and again.

"Uh-uh-aaaa-haaa-aaaa-uh-uh! Huh-uh-aaaaa-uh-uh-uh!" Tom was breathing in short, breathless gulps, squirming, writhing, trying to adjust to and accommodate the unforseen intruder within him.

Pumping in and out, withdrawing until the tip of his penis touched the lips of Tom's anus, Miguel would ram back in and down until each time fully burying his shank within the Captain. As he continued thrusting hard into the Captain, Miguel's engorged, fleshy cannon began to graze, then press, against Tom's prostate, evoking sudden, audible gasps!

Tom began tilting his pelvis, grinding and tightening down on Miguel, while writhing in obvious pleasure. "Ooooo-hoooo-myyyyyy-aaaaaa-God!" he shouted in response to a totally new discovery on his part.

Miguel then returned Tom's favouring delight, taking the taller, leaner Captain's already sticky, but now recharged, re-aroused, large cylinder into his mouth, swirling and suctioning it. Tom bucked and jumped and bumped on the bed, squirming more, but moaning with ecstasy.

The vacuuming of his rod, together with the phallus repeatedly stimulating within him, propelled Tom to a euphoric, mental chaos he'd never before experienced, never known before. Having succumbed utterly into and under the overwhelming control and sexual assault of his younger, smaller, junior buddy, Tom was now surrendered, but ravenously relishing every savoury, irresistible stimulus and sensation. He could not control himself, could not help himself. He was loose, floating freely, in a sea of passionate ecstasy. If nirvana existed, this had to be it!

Finally, Miguel could not hold back any longer. Forcing a powerful suction on Tom's organ, Miguel felt it bulge and tremble, then explode again, spewing more ejaculate into the corporal's mouth and throat. Instantaneously, with a strangled half-yell, Miguel ceased trying to refrain, letting loose with a volcanic eruption, spurting and spurting like a fire hose inside Captain Miller's stud hole.

When it was over, Miguel leaned down on top of Captain Miller, an unusual juxtaposition for the two friends. Sweating and sobbing, Tom was a broken man, humbled and chastened, taken to task by his younger, lesser colleague and friend, crushed and devastated, wrenched and wrung out, mentally, emotionally, and physically. He had not expected this; but then he had not expected any of what he discovered on this trip in pursuit of his buddy, Miguel.

Still, he had accepted it, endured it, willing to do whatever it takes, to show – to prove – his genuine feelings, his sincerity, his bared emotions, for Miguel. Miguel, reposing on Tom with his retracting member still within the one man he never thought he could fuck, regained his deferential, respectful attitude toward his Captain, even while implanting a deep, invasive kiss on Tom's mouth.

"Are you, aaaa, okaaay, Tom?" he asked in a tone of consideration and concern.

With tears all over his face and still filling his eyes, Tom answered. "Huh-uh-uh-haugh-uh-uh-ye-es-uh-uh-with-uh-youuuuu-uh-Miguellllll!" sobbing as he replied with raw, unreserved, earnest sincerity.

The entire scene cut deep into Miguel's psyche like a knife into flesh. He could not help himself. Throwing himself on his Captain, he kissed him plenteously, weeping himself: "Tom, Tom. You not only have my heart, and will, and mind: you own my soul!"

The two, young men reciprocally yielded to each other's bald, undisguised emotions with writhing, wrestling, unrestrained passion. Afterward, they snuggled up together and drifted off together for the rest of the night, sleeping enmeshed together until late morning, after 10 a.m.

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