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... only by the creaking of a beam and Ayame’s steady breathing. Her body, wrapped in the damp fabric of her half-open kimono, stood out against the gloom like a sleeping statue. Her heavy chest rose and fell in a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm, a cruel contrast to the fever burning in my loins.
I was suffocating. Hikari was relentless, her lips pressed tightly around me, each suck resounding like a wet slap in the dampness of the room. Her frail body trembled with an excitement she could bare ...
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