#69842 - Aela sat half-erect on an elbow, breathing heavily, one silky leg drawn up, arm draped over its knee, a bottle of Colovian in the other. Aela progressed down my torso – vexingly – between my breasts toward my rippled stomach, probed into my navel; everywhere a trail of wetness left behind to chill in the breeze. Thus did my guilt instigate my meeting of Borgakh the Steel Heart.
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