"She smiled. "You're alright. Don't blame you for cutting out for a bit." Yeah, you too?" Fuck yes. This must be why we never do these, everyone can h...rdly stand each other." Yeah, I just needed the bathroom, but, yeah, it's weird." What are you doing later?" Not much, probably gonna head back to my room and chill." You staying at your parents?" No, I got a room down the road." At the sketchball place?" It's not sketchball. It works for a couple nights." Okay...can I come hang later? Not really. At home, alone, Isobelle touches her intimate creases and greases them with her longing. She slides her slippery fingers around her wetness and presses her lush breasts on the cold glass in the shower. It gives her body-tremours and her nipples rise to peaks. Under the warm buzz of the shower she lets her hands wander between her legs, gently bringing herself to orgasm imagining bringing to life the suggestion she can see in the eyes of her tall, dark-haired train commuter. He makes her. More

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