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“Nobody breathes a word,” Cheyenne finally said, her voice steady yet soft, a leader asserting control over the girls and the situation. Cheyenne lay down before him, beckoning him to eat her pussy as he assumed the position. He watched John take in the surroundings—the subtle changes Cheyenne had brought to the once-dismal space. “Keep it together, Larry,” he muttered, a mantra against the rising tide of worry. Every step they took was charged with the unspoken question of how far they would allow themselves to go, how deeply they would delve into the realm of shared intimacy that awaited them. She glimpsed the man who hungered for touch, for understanding, a man who bore his desires cloaked in shame. He felt the warmth of gratitude spill from John like sunlight through open curtains, yet within, a shadow loomed—guilt, dark and unyielding. Larry grabbed his cock and started to stroke it in time with the fucking he was receiving. “But Erin… Cheyenne screamed as she climaxed on Larry’s tongue, holding his head as her hips rocked up and down causing his nose to rub her clit.