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Today I was left alone, fulfilling my role as responsible stepmother ... but temptation touched the door together with the caster of fresh milk. Upon receiving it, I pretended normal, although my desire went far beyond a simple cold glass. Each gesture, each look hid the anxiety of what was about to unleash. The taste of the craving became more intense as he played with the idea that someone else could be observing, enjoying silently from each provocation. Would you dare to look at what happens when I stop pretending and I give myself to real pleasure?