He was bewitched…
Fuck. Me. Running…
Sweating like a sonofabitch, I stood with a big-ass box in my hands, staring down over the top of it at Bebe’s firm little tits, shoved in a tight, checked dress. Clear, skinny straps with bows on top held them up, and I wanted nothing more on God’s green earth than to lunge over her threshold and snap those mothers apart with my teeth.
Naturally, I didn’t.
Instead, I nodded, gruffing out a muttered, “Hey.” Thinking how gorgeous she was. Thinking how could anything that skinny possibly hold up anything so round and juicy?
Thinking how it was a good thing I had my shades on, so she couldn’t see where my eyes were.
“Ooh, my new toaster oven! Is it heavy, Tommy? Would you kill me if I asked you to carry it through to the kitchen?”
Apparently, I was incapable of speech today. Inclining my head again like a mute, I gestured for Miss Sexalicious to lead the way. She smiled widely, holding the door open for me. Working on keeping it together, I looked away from that curving pink mouth with a mighty effort.
God. Never in my life have I seen such perfect lips as Bebe Anderson’s. I had those beauties memorized, too. Sweating harder, I swallowed down a strangled moan.
Hell, yeah, I did… Knew ʼem by heart. After all, I’d spent plenty of time over the weekend jacking to the vision of them moving under my own, sliding over my skin. Kissing me, teasing me.
Sucking my cement-hard dick.
Grinding my molars to dust, I gripped the carton tighter, following her swaying ass in that minuscule dress down the hall running alongside a wrecked staircase. Manfully, I tried to keep my eyes front and center, but I’d like to see you check out the progress of “Operation Bank Drain” instead of drooling down at that twitching little butt.
Not to mention, it was really bright in here today, so could I help it if I could see practically right through that tissue-thin material?
Nope, I could not.