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The house is quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant ticking of the clock. But the real rhythm is set by the taps of those extreme-high-heels on the hardwood floor. Her heart races as she imagines the feel of her husband's hands on her body, the sensation of those shiny, silver heels digging into the floor as he pounds into her, her tattoos glistening with sweat and desire. She can't wait, and neither can her hungry pussy.