51 0 1
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She got up and left the table and when she reached the passenger side of my car, I imagined her high-heeled shoe leaving the glistening tarmac. She was Lauren Bacall, I was Humphrey Bogart. She was Sharon Stone, I was Mickey Rourke. She was Brigitte Bardo
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16600
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She could feel him going limp inside her, and the anger swelled as he lit another cigarette with the previous one, paying her little mind other than to blow the smoke in her general direction.
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8200
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Those in the house don’t notice the sweaty woman on their lawn any more than they notice the Ruger LCP pistol she holds limply in her right hand.
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4500
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June continued caressing her legs while she talked. Slade thought he could hear her purring too, trying to entice him to her end of the couch. He wasn’t sure what to do next but he was sure he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.
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102126
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"It's not that I don't like sex. I just don't like it in literature," she declared, working her ostrich feather fan.
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8653
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Everyone was very complimentary, except me. I diplomatically said nothing and tried not to look at her still engorged genitals.
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5831
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Perhaps I deserve to feel this way. We were trying to get pregnant when my online escapades became more frequent. Like a drug, this was my place to escape the real horrors of life.
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