Three empty wineglasses sit on couple’s dining room table, wine pluck candles lit and the curtains drawn. Though no one is in the room, traces of them are. A unite of socks, a t-shirt, a pair of yoga pants, another t-shirt, another pair of yoga pants, a purple camisole, a pair of men’s cargo pants, and a series of underwear- three in total, lined up like hiking cairns leading to the closed bathroom door. Through the door in unison could hear, if they wished, small laughs, talking, and giggles beneath the constantly running water. Pauses. The occasional moan, occasionally brief and sometimes level. Laughter. Time was insubstantial, and no equal knew how much of it passed that endlessly.

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“Is that the politically natural manner to say slutty in lesbian?” I smirked.
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“Is that the politically natural manner to say slutty in lesbian?” I smirked.
Both Scarlett and Isabella put aside whatever rivalry they had on Santa’s dick aside to team up and please him mutually. Sucking him, fucking him, dirty talk and dirtier actions all to see fit Santa. Sure they were impressing him in their own ways with their lips, hips, and tits but they were going to make his choice of Mrs. Claus deeply difficult with positions like this.
“I’ll be ready,” Marcia said.
“He watched?” I asked in spite of though I had suspected it.
Jessica was high. “Did I say that out loud, nigh another guy? I guess I did.”
Dang. There were several gasps from the crowd, which now was growing rather quickly. I even got jostled a little bit but I stood my foundation. A woman guy was up on tiptoe behind me, looking over my shoulder.
Three empty wineglasses sit on couple’s dining room table, wine pluck candles lit and the curtains drawn. Though no one is in the room, traces of them are. A unite of socks, a t-shirt, a pair of yoga pants, another t-shirt, another pair of yoga pants, a purple camisole, a pair of men’s cargo pants, and a series of underwear- three in total, lined up like hiking cairns leading to the closed bathroom door. Through the door in unison could hear, if they wished, small laughs, talking, and giggles beneath the constantly running water. Pauses. The occasional moan, occasionally brief and sometimes level. Laughter. Time was insubstantial, and no equal knew how much of it passed that endlessly.
The day after I left Zagreb with a UN flight I will not at any time forget. It was an old, soviet-vintage Ukrainian Ilyushin, coached about a drunken Canadian crew hired on the cheapest market UN could find… Let’s forget it.
“Skilfully well, you’re never unusually by yourselves. That would have been interesting,” she commented when were unsurpassed right away more.
“What the fu-” I managed to puff out. “What happened?”

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