I was balls deep in this woman, that I haven’t even met yet and her son was playing at a party less than 50 feet away. I immediately grew concern th...t we might get caught and she would be embarrassed. I had to get her back to that party if I wanted another chance to fuck her again.I spun her around and kissed her again. She kissed me back with such ferocity that is pushed me back against the other side of the stall. I felt her grab my cock and start to stroke it. She was an expert with her hand. . I was glad he got the picture"Sure, love to help a brother" You love to suck dick, don't you?" Exactly, so if you gotta bust that nut, just tell me" Alright, let's go to your place, then you can suck my dick as much as you want"After that, he felt free to light up another cig, and a third one while I drove him. Sometimes he would simply blow his smoke in my face, and it was turning me on something fierce.When we got to my apartment, it was already warm and yellow inside, but I loved to turn. Plato seems to say that the artist is trying to imitate the ideal. To Aristotle, art is the realization in external form of a true idea, and is traced back to that natural love of imitation which characterizes humans, and to the pleasure which we feel in recognizing likenesses. Art, however, is not limited to mere copying.”“OK.”“So. Dupain, then, must be a Platonist. For a photographic image must be closer to that which it reflects. But what is Williams? Are his paintings not art because they. ?That’s better,? Lizbeth snickered and climbed up onto the driver’s bench. ?Now Our trusty steed can carry Us home.? She grasped the reins triumphantly and flicked her whip against Simon’s ass to urge him homeward. ?Isn’t it delicious to own a ponyboy?? Later that evening Lizbeth and I rested before an open fire in Her family room. Simon was on hands and knees crawling and scurrying to keep Our drinks filled. A slave’s work is never done however tired he may be. I felt especially.