She jumps a little in shock, but just smiles at you and keeps on dancing. That smile, those wonderful lips, you wonder how you have been able to resis... this girl for so long. You make your way slowlyand silently too the sofa behind her.From here you can see the back of her legs moving to the music. Those legs,that you slowly follow upwards to her wonderful bum. So tight in the jeans she'swearing. You can't help but stare at it as it sways in motion. You just sit there, watching ...and watching,. Squeezing them. I watched as my hand lifted them, bounced them. Icraned my neck down, eagerly, just catching my nipple with my. God.Reflexively, my hand went down to my crotch. I cupped this pussy. Mypussy. My vagina. The edge of my hand came up between my labia, slowly, exquisitely. Itreached up near my clittie and I felt a wave of intoxicating warmth,pressure, sensation. My hands worked together and spread my outer lipsto show me that bulging, glistening, tiny bud. With only a. I have an epiphany. I tuck the little vibe between my lips trying to keep the tip against my clit, and reach again for the riding crop. I rain blows down on Jimmy, his yelps melding together into a howl of pain that resonates through me, bouncing off the headboard and back down. I frantically continue beating him, back, arms, ass, feet, nothing escapes as I drive myself off the cliff, my own orgasm finally arriving with a groan and a full-body shudder, my thighs clamping involuntarily onto. ”“You and I are still young. How would you like to read some of her poems?”“What? By the depressed woman?”“She happens to be one of the greatest American poets, or at least in mymind she is. Some may disagree.”“Not on your life,” he laughed.“No, I mean it. How would you like to write an essay about a few poems she wrote?”“I don’t know. Listen, I didn’t drag you to a poetry slam to talk about depressing shit, alright? Life is not that bad, and it is for free up to a point. See, you’ve got too.