Sweaty bodies. Kiss her lips. Sweaty lips. Kiss her ear. Kiss her pink hair.Buy a couple of Coronas. Lime stuffed in. Clink. Sit at the table. Laugh.F...ck him. No fucking £20 blow job photos. Unbutton her again. Phone over her cunt. Easy. Send it to him.Better than a fucking blow job Mister. SEND.We finish our beers. Go out in the rain. Cars splashing by. Side alley. In the rain. Dark as fuck. Take our tops off. By the bins. Over the bins. Her back arched over the bins. Our bodies soaking wet.. Then one afternoon, I just happened to look and found she must have just returned from the shower. She was laying on her back wearing nothing but a towel, and she was watching TV. (Depending on how she had her bedroom arranged, I often had a clear view of her entire bed, head to toe.) Then, all of the sudden, out of nowhere, she opened up her towel from the waist down and, still keeping her eyes on the TV, she was rubbing her pussy fast and frantically! She would do this for about a minute at a. Susan Phillips screamed, ‘I’m a whore and slut. Fuck me harder. Oh! forgive me Jeff. Fuck me harder Juan!’ Juan smiled and stopped holding himself back. His red hot poker of a cock blasted his jism deep into Susan’s belly. The white wife and mother, grabbed Juan tightly with her legs and arms. Susan was hanging below his stocky body as she had the biggest orgasm of her life. An orgasm at the hands of a Mexican d**g smuggler and pimp. All thoughts of her f****y were at least temporarily. “This is the Winter garden,” whispered Amy from behind. “Here you must choose your favorite flower, and wear it for your love.” “Choose?” I whispered. The world shimmered and I stood no longer in that room, but rather in a sunny grove, alone, with a hot summer sun high in the sky. I staggered for a moment, realizing that I was quite intoxicated, and then gathered myself, and suddenly the queasiness faded. I had never seen so many flowers in my life, and so perfect as well. There were roses and.