Running dual spy ware and malware scans right now, just in case the massive pr0n activity in the past few days has exposed my system to too many bad bugs. FireFox keeps most of them out, but one or two get through eventually.
Ok that’s a lie. Any girl that pops up in your peripheral vision four times running, and greets you as kitten! in reference to your explanation of using the term sweater kittens for erect nipples is probably not interested. Probably not. Right. But does that explain her aboutface, bordering on the urge to flee, when I would followup with something directed at her, letting my body language, tone of voice, eye intensity, convey my driving urge to fuck her? My urge to shed her young body of what few layers of clothes she wore, of coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of her taunt flesh, to breathe her womanly scent just after sex, holding her from behind as her world realigns.
I am inclined to think that she was ready and willing, mostly by her actions, but also because of her friend, who warned me that she would rip vital parts out of my body if I fucked her friend over, if I hurt her in any way. Does she mean Negen? I cannot say, but do not recall speaking with any other fiend in her presence, don’t remember actually speaking with her directly before that moment.
It seems as if I am in the clear however, as she launches into a tirade about the damaging and strictly counter-evolutionary effects of drinking milk on the body. It turns out that she is a far greater fan of chocolate, and will stare fear and scientific discovery in the face for a tall glass of chocolate milk, and milk in cereal. Because I guess it really doesn’t count if it’s something you like, or if it serves as a platform for enjoying grain-based tasticakes. I glance at her very small breasts, covered by a thin band of elastic material, which is mirrored on each arm, and am not caught. I am struck by the urge to ravage her as well, but only because my sex drive never stopped kicking, or I never let it die, even after she took my heart away.
I am in no position to complain, as I willingly gave my heart to her, knowing that she might break it, and regretting having had it broken would mean that I in any way regret what we had, and I do not. Not for one second. Our last fuck concluded with her sucking me off, my cum spilling into her mouth as she crouched between my thighs, my arms flailing, back convulsing, pure satisfaction singing along the synapses to the tips of my toes.
I find myself sabotaging my chances with girls like Negen, or at the very least writing it off as not worth my time, even though she keeps bubbling up next to me, calling me Kitten and staring at me with her absolutely beautiful eyes, her simmering sensuality flashing in a glance. Perhaps she keeps coming back because I ignore her. Perhaps.
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