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“I fucking know!” he yells back. “But I can’t get up because you’re still holding on to me.” “I’ve been tea-bagged,” I cry out in horror, his penis still rubbing along my nostrils. “Let the fuck GO, KELSEY!”
“I’ve been defiled.” “You’ve been defiled?” he retorts. “I’m the one who’s been stripped bare.”
I tricked him with a gas scare, got him out of his room, then flung my body onto his leg. He proceeded to drag me across the penthouse. In my attempt to stop him, I yanked his shorts down, tripped him up, and his penis landed on my face.
I’m amazed at how a grown woman could even live it down enough to tell someone. I would’ve took this to the GRAVE 🤣🫣
“Listen to me, Jonathan Patrick Cane—” “That’s not my name.” “I don’t care if your name is Junior Pooper, you’re going to listen to me.” Don’t laugh at Junior Pooper, do not laugh.
Because I want you to think I’m a good guy despite how I act. I want you to see that I like you, but am afraid to tell you because there’s a great possibility you will laugh in my face. I want you to give me a chance. To date me . . .
My breath is so heavy that I can barely register what’s happening until his tongue is gliding over my pussy, one smooth swipe before he lifts up, standing straight.
“Mother . . . fucker,” I grind out, my molars nearly cracking from the intense orgasm that rips through me, sending me into a black hole of pure bliss.