With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. Mrs. ’ Roding started. She glanced at him. Certain it was, that the slightest sound aroused him. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt.
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