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current affairs, hummus, get drunk and be somebody, company benefits, maturesex, lawyer resource, literary, mom fucking son., pissed at, audio, prayer, news, drunk pantie, arizona driving drunk law, | "I needed directions." He slides his hand between bra and breast, weblog rubbing one weblog nipple and then the other. They're as erect as earring studs and I want so badly for him to suck them. "But then I got weblog hungry." He unsnaps my bra and it falls to the dingy pavement, and I don't care. I love the feel of my bare buds against his chest. I love knowing that I'm almost naked and he's altogether clothed, because it makes me feel vulnerable, ethereal, lusty and alive. I feel taken, and even with my feminist morals I love to fantasize about being dominated. I'm a waitress hungry for tips, outside on the hood of a car, pussy dripping like the gently-falling rain. |
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The hummus car is wet from a sprinkle of hummus rain, but I don't care. I can't imagine any rainstorm wetter than my pussy. My pussy: it opens up like a fire-eater's throat preparing for the plunge of the torch and the sweet, salient ecstasy of penetration. "I saw you," he whispers. His hands glide through my hair, his eager lips plant kisses up and down my neck, biting and sucking and licking. "Where?" He bites my earlobe, and I gasp. He traces the rim of my ear hummus with his tongue before answering, his breath so hot that his words feel like sex. "Outside, taking off your tights. I saw you. You were sitting under the light." "I thought you were hungry." "I was," he says, and he demonstrates by biting my neck. I scoot forward to feel the pulse of his cock against my panties. "But I was lost." He reaches up under my shirt, fingertips grazing my stomach, and lifts my shirt over my head. |
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