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Head on my pillows, Emma’s naked body splays on the bed. Like her breasts, she is real from head to toe. The woman definitely worships food, it is part of her job, but her daily swims and runs keep her tone.

Lying beside her, distracted by her beauty, I trail my fingertips along her ribs, causing her to wiggle to escape. I forgot she is ticklish.

“Hold still,” I scold.

“It tickles,” she laughs.

“Would you prefer pain?” I tease.

Fear ...