It’s hers, the slut, spreading her legs for any eager cock that came along, luring good men into the muck. He was no match for her aggressive overtures – how could he be? He was only a man, and men had needs that had to be fulfilled. The poor man needed sleep, but she had talked her way in, her bleached hair artfully tousled, her overblown breasts brushing against him, her breathy voice promising all manner of carnal delights. She had come over, despite the rain, and Colin had met her at the door with surprise, exhaustion etched on his face. It was a good hiding spot, the half-finished addition to the structure – no one would think to look here, and one could listen to every incriminating moment of seduction. THE SOUNDS OF PASSION were grating – soft murmurs and husky laughter muffled by the partially demolished walls of the house on this side and the sheets of rain pummeling the tarp overhead. Twitter: my writing girls, who never let me stop. If you’re under 18, read something else!ĪDDITIONAL WORKS AVAILABLE AS SINGLE TITLES WARNING: This work contains explicit depictions of couples engaged in consensual sex and sexual situations.
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