The dance floor was about half full, but I would bet it would be packed soon.“Want to dance?” I asked.Miranda just nodded. It turned out she was a...terrible dancer. Maybe this was why the Biebs dumped her. Tracy told me once that you could tell if a guy was good in bed by how well he danced. She said that if a man had no rhythm on the dance floor, he had none in bed. I wondered if that held true for girls.The next song was slow, so I pulled her into my arms to guide her. We were on the dance. The writing must speak for itself. Otherwise, my death will be a slow, unmerciful one instead of the murder a controversy will bring. And so we have decided on a short-run printing of this novel in the hopes that we attract those few committed readers who are interested, less in controversy, but more in a damn good story. It is important, then, that I dispel a few myths before they take hold. Although I defend this novel, I see little or no crime in the first place. Such is the nature of. She was smiling as she pushed past an old couch and swung between a pair of standing lamps and a gumball machine. My garage was so cramped and cluttered but here she was acting like Moses and splitting the Red Sea. If you had told me she was going to try it, I wouldn't have believed it could be done.As gorgeous as I thought Tami was, she probably couldn't look anymore beautiful then she did right then. She was wearing her long brunette hair in a single ponytail and had on a white fluffy cotton. I breathed a little easier.'Then who told you this rubbish about men?' I asked quickly.'My English teacher' Seema said.'You can't imagine the pleasures a man's cock can give us women' I repeated.'I know just a fraction of what a woman's touch can give' Seema retorted.'Your English ma'am touches you? Where?' I inquired incredulously.Seema blushed and looked towards her tits. 'Like this?' I said caressing and squeezing her small boobies through her thin blouse. She was not wearing a bra. On my.