Dave laughed and said, “That was impressive.”“That was stupid,” Jack said. Wanting to change the subject, Jack said, “At least this has been...an easy job. It will look real nice with the carpet she picked out.”“She should get a pretty good price for it,” Dave said hoping that was the case.Jack said, “You’ve been keeping track of the expenses?”“You bet I have. I’ve also kept track of how much time we’ve spent on fixing it up,” Dave said.“Why?”Realizing that Jack hadn’t been around when Mary had. " Do we have to?" said Emily, his teenage daughter, looking at the green two story motel with crudely painted pictures of little green aliens on the side. "This place sucks. Can't we please keep going? I want to get home." It's not nice to say 'sucks'," her mother Velma said."I'm tired of driving, princess," said Cliff. "I need to stop. I need to get forty winks, or I'll get us into an accident."Inside, they met a dimpled hotel clerk with a bouffant hairdo, named Miranda."On vacation?" she. Maxine is a slim and tallish size 10-12 blond and as I told Roger, very pretty and around ten-years younger than us as is her man. She is wearing heels and very tight leather slacks which highlight her taut body with a white silk top.“We are to please and be pleased,” I tell her as we tongue kiss by way of greeting.“And so we shall,” she smiles confidently as she licks my nipples.Roger is obviously smitten by Maxine as he watches her every movement.“I feel overdressed compared to you two,” she. He reached down and gripped the back of her thighs, lifting her with ease so her legs wrapped around his waist. His right hand gripped her hip tightly with his fingers, his left hand was planted flat against the tile as he slid himself inside her. She instant felt the dizzy feeling of desire, the power he had over her was unquestionable. He pushed himself deep inside her and couldn’t help a groan escaping his lips. She gasped, the sound of his pleasure driving her wild, and for a few seconds he.
Read MoreIt was the look that lingered in his eyes that I had noticed in few others. Vladimir Nabokov called them ‘nymphet’s.’ I called them degenerates.
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