You obey. He walks away and comes back. You fill something being wrapped around your eyes. As He is tying the fabric on, his cock brushes your chee...s and lips. It makes you salivate and want to follow his member with your mouth. When he is done, he runs his fingers through your hair and gives it a slow, loving pull. You feel lips close to your ear and he says, “No hands, just your mouth”. You find his cock with your mouth and slowly begin to suck. The taste alone almost brings your. I close the book, set it on the arm of the couch, and turn to look.She smiles and bites her lip as my eyes take her in. She is wearing a black choker, black panties, and white opaque knee high stockings. Her hands rest in her lap. She gives me a slight smirk and a don’t-mind-me shrug as if she is just minding her own business. My body is already responding to the goddess sitting next to me. My pulse quickens, my pants start to tighten, and my stomach does an anxious flip. I place a hand on her. I got shot seventeen times. On national television. Talk about bad luck. Luckily, I survived. Not only did I survive, I didn’t have a scratch on me. For some reason, the bullets couldn’t penetrate my skin. That was on September 13, 1998. The entire world watched me get shot and survive. What followed was nothing short of a media circus. The entire world wanted to know about me. The young black guy who was bulletproof. I didn’t want any of it. I wanted my life back. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in. I know you've never time traveled 20 years in a single night, but let metell you how visibly noticeable it actually is. My classmates wereactually talking to each other. No cell phones. No checking texts orFacebook. No selfies. And the clothes. The late 90's were in full forcehere. Plaid and argyle for miles.I put my backpack down and started to pull out my binder when someonewalked up to the desk in front of me. I looked up.It was Fay. My crush. Oh my god. My heart skipped and long.