Cant Blame You For That, I Would Have Cum Well...
What is it with me? What am I? Have I no morals, no shame? I search deep within myself. I can discern no trace of the shame, the disgust I believe I should be feeling. Is it love I feel for this "friend", or only lust?He is radiant, gleaming.Gently so as not to wake him I let my hands graze over his taut frame. Cautiously, I heft the length of his sex in my palm, impressed by the solid weight of him. The smell of him, of us, and the remnants of our sex is heavy in the room and heady in my nostrils. The taste of him is a memory on my lips, my tongue. Did I really do all that last night? Take his long heavy thickness deep in my mouth, my throat? It seems impossible, yet already I feel the stirring want of him reawaken somewhere deep in my psyche. Yes, I believe I would do it again. Momentarily I am tempted to lean over his taut, muscular form and take him once again in my lips. "Could I do that? Perform the acts of my recent memory in the cool light of daylight and reason, without the. I walked up to the bar."What can I get you?" asked the barman."For starters, I'll have a Vodka Martini, molested; not stirred." What?" asked the man."Do I have to explain your business to you, you bleeedin' Yank?! Take the shaker, fill it with vodka, add a splash of dry vermouth, give the shaker to those two bimbos with the ridiculously large breasts, have them stick it between their cleavages, pull their bodies close to each other and have them jump up and down for five minutes. Then make them smoke a bloody cigarette." I'm sorry, sir. State law prevents smoking in all..." OK, they can dispense with the fags then." What?" The bloody cigarettes!" I groaned. "Have them make out that way instead." OK, then that would make them 'female fags'," he laughed."Whatever," I said, not really in the mood for his somewhat amusing observation.When he turned his back, I walked over to my target. She was holding court with a bunch of men who were all fondling her mammoth mammary marsupials."Please.
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