On Sunday, I wished that the Eagles’ quarterback would stumble and fall on his ass while trying to find a receiver, losing eight yards in the proces... and forcing a punt.He didn’t fall. In fact, he completed the pass for first down and the Eagles went on to score.So, okay, clearly I didn’t have a general power to just wish-something-and-make-it-so. Not even little, two-bit nosebleeds, or quarterback fall-downs.So much for influencing events in general.But I could sure as hell fucking kill. She cleaned him up and turned around so he could feel her backside with his greedy fingers. Misty enjoyed the degrading experience because she liked the way older men found new ways to explore her hidden corners. It seemed like they were never in a hurry like the young lads whose only thought was to shoot their load and get on to more pressing matters.Misty had an appointment with the older Mister Weinstein's gadfly son Tony later that evening and they were to go over his civil suit of. More

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