One of my comic book heroes was called "The Vigilante." The premise was pretty stupid, but fun. "The Vigilante" was a man who lived in a big city (New...York?) and had a secret identity in which he dressed as a Hollywood-style cowboy, but used a motorcycle instead of a horse. I decided to emulate "The Vigilante" in action, but not in dress. He was more interested in justice than in legality, thus his name. I decided that was what I would be when I grew up: I would be a vigilante. I had gotten my. The kitchen door stood open as it nearly always did, and two guinea hens seemed to be discussing whether or not they would explore the house. The cat dozed."About what?" asked Robert, crossing his ankles the other way and holding up the boat hull he was carving, a satisfied look on his lean face since his straking lines seemed nearly parallel and the keel was now smooth and even."'Bout goin' to work. His boy quit." Seth got his breath back and looked down at his skinny brother, feeling sorry. When the bell rang, I found myself walking to class picturing the couple having hot, passionate and sweaty sex. I imagined the blonde haired girl bent over her bed, sweaty bangs hanging loosely down onto her forehead. Her whole body moving back and forth, as her boyfriend pushes his thick, throbbing penis in and out of her wet vagina. She's moaning at the big cock penetrating her tight pussy, and he lets out a****l-like grunts. Then, suddenly I bumped into someone on my way to class, and all my. Christ, I’m going to come! she thought and then said it, using her hands to try to pry Dave off of her but he refused to budge. And then she was coming, her hot liquid pouring out, coating Dave’s face and tongue. He kept lapping at her and she kept coming. She didn’t think she would ever stop. Finally, her orgasm subsided and Dave was next to her, kissing her, letting her taste herself. It was a sweet, fruity taste. A little bit later, she reciprocated and gave him a blow job until he shot his.