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... p him. "Let us take you," she murmured.
Jude let go.
He lay back into the glowing pool, the water barely deep enough to cover his hips. The wives moved in a practiced, primal rhythm, surrounding him, climbing over him, worshiping him. Lucy sat astride his face while Zoey took him deep inside, crying out as he filled her, her body shaking with each thrust.
When Zoey was done, Lucy took his place. Then Susan. Then Emma. Each rode him with reverence, with joy. Not competing. ...
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