Besides, if all they want to do is talk, all we do is talk. I'm an animal, not a monster.Over the last few weeks, my resolve to be a gentleman has bee... sorely tested. I have somehow taken in a runaway Persian kitten who calls herself "Boy." She is a bit of a naif in some ways and a bit of a Tasmanian devil in others. I saved her from a rat three times her size (or rescued the rat from her. The jury is still out.) And since then, she's been my responsibility. Like me, she understands human. I take my fingers to the straps of my dress and teasingly slide them down over my bare shoulders. His face reddens as I slide them down further allowing my large breasts to bounce free. Dan stares wide eyed leering at my full, pink tipped breasts. Swaying gently I proceed to wriggle the dress down over my beautiful round bottom. Dan squirms a little in his seat and I can see his shorts bulging. I run my tongue around my lips seductively, sliding my fingers down to my breasts. I cup and massage. ” “Sweetie… don’t become so sure that I’m above flaws… remember I want you… and that may be to “use” you.” “Giving as you are getting isn’t “using”… it’s called loving!” “Then I want to “love” you…. I want to get and to give… to make your life wonderful for these few moments… “ And we both knew the implications of that next beyond without it being said… there would be decisions made, but for the moment the only decision made without ever being spoken was that we were going to be using/loving. Well, I really don't like cheerleaders.It's nothing against the sport as a whole, I think the idea of gettingout there and using your body to inspire and support is really cool,even if it's not quite my thing. The problem is that all thecheerleaders at this school are like, the mascots for the party-slutlifestyle and they get all catty if you're not a part of that world.Don't get me wrong, I like to party. Going out and having fun is animportant part of the college experience and life in.