HEAR me motherfucker. I own this fucking cock. I am the BEST fuck you ever hard you mother fucker and I will be the last. This cock can make a man mel... like butter, and these ass cheeks can mold your cock like clay. These tits are to DIE for LITTERALLY. These are MILLION DOLLAR tits, 100 percent real, not plastic and fanfuckingtastic. You think I was rough before…the true sexcution hasn’t even begun. Get you become a Homicide with sex, Sexmincide….BITCH. You’re going to join the long stack of. "Just asking," Vicky defended herself. "And it isn't like you're not married to her or anything. Everyone in this room knows good and well that she's wife number nine." Nine?" Heather questioned."Come on Heather," Vicky laughed. "You're number eight and you know it. Don't act stupid. I call for a vote. All for eight and nine say aye."There were a number of "Aye's." All opposed say nay," Vicky requested.All was silent."There you have it." Vicky said haughtily, "What we already knew is now. I couldn't just walk up to him and ask him to please take me right there on the table. And then one day I had a revelation. I suddenly knew that I had one way to get his attention.I am an amateur photographer. I love taking nude photos of myself. I would take them often for my ex-husband and surprise him with them in emails. He had always told me that I had an ass to die for. And I had caught other men's eyes on my ass many times. So I knew that I would use my greatest ass-et to catch the. As if the blanket of water spread across the town was an inferior mirage, akin to one you might see distant in a desert on a hot day. The cool air refreshed me, calming my throbbing head. I turned the corner, around my apartment building, enjoying the rare atmosphere. Then, focusing ahead of me, I saw the back of a tan, full-size sedan. A familiar shape. I moved innocently forward. From the back, I could faintly make out a stylized ‘L’ logo. And the tag number on the license plate. It was.