Awkward Anne
Anne was just about to cum when she heard the basement door creak open. With quick, calm motions practiced over years of concealing similar close calls; she removed her hand from her worn, plaid pajama pants and casually placed it on her thigh in order to discreetly wipe away the glistening wetness that was coating her fingers. The dark, glossy marks camouflaged well with the fabric's pattern and were no more noticeable then any of the other myriad stains that preceded it. Thankfully...