“Like hell he is!” she tried to argue as I slid her panties aside and exposed her tight little peach.“How’s she look down there?” Becky ...sked, craning her head like she was trying to see for herself.“Delicious,” I responded honestly as I brought a finger to trace Ms. Bliss’s opening.“Stop fucking touching me!” she demanded and tried to kick out, but I had her legs pinned under my arms and Becky held her down by her shoulders and kissed and sucked on her neck and collar bones.I. As I lay there, my head tilted up on my favorite feather pillow, watching the storm clouds dance across the sky through the window that was right above the head of my bed, that same frustration still filled me. Why couldn't things come out the way I wanted? I sometimes thought that the characters in my books and stories were alive and that they mocked me at times by doing exactly what I didn't want them to do. Or saying things that were out of character and changed the whole line of the story.. More

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