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Helena lets Maya's body settle into the mattress, then turns, her cock still wet and half-hard, and crosses to Derek's wheelchair. She grips his hair, tilting his face up, and presses the head of her cock against his lips. 'You've watched,' she says, her voice low. 'You've cleaned. Now be useful in a way your legs never could.' His mouth opens—not in protest, but in a broken, obedient reflex—and she pushes forward, feeling his tongue against her for the first time, his tears warm on her skin.
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