I watched him disappear around the corner of the parking lot back toward the bar, my legs pulled in against myself, my hands slowly cupping my own mam...oth melons, feeling the warm cum in my deep cleavage. The weekend skittered by like a bore, my body tingling all the while, remembering the simple phrase ‘eighteen inch fuck tool’. It reverberated in my memory through Monday, suffering through interviews, suddenly and certainly for the inferior unfortunates, unfairly, judging each against the bus. " I started. "I think about how pretty you are, and about how good it will feel to wash your back, and about playing with the soap in your hair to make it stand up straight like Alfalfa's cowlick on the Little Rascals." "Do you like it when I wash your penis?" she asked. "Sure, it feels great." I said back. "It's my favorite part, especially when I get that pain that feels so good." "Do you know what that nice feeling is called?" she asked, looking curious now. "It has a name?" I asked,. More

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