Chapter 1

Look the “good girl” ... in my power, with shining eyes. Restless. She looks at me as if she knows she is a fatty pig who will goes soon to the slaughter. The stupid girl is on her knees. Nose decidedly not French. Short hair, straight and without the slightest wave. Ruffled mouth. The zip of my pants opens and I extract my long and hard manhood that capture her attention. She swallows hard and looks at him with a mixture of bewilderment and desire “I ... I don’t...”. I look up at the sky and i show to her all my annoying. I pull up the zip and whisper to the silly girl: “Ok ... I don’t want to force you. Your sister will receive that audio file that we know. And also your ex ... especially the part where you say that you want to cut his...”. She gets agitated and jumps on her knees approaching hands clasped in front of her.” NO! No, please ... It would be the end! Ok ok ... you ... you won.”. I laugh and with a rough move i pull down my pants: we are eyes in eyes. Dark brown both but her eyes looks cerulean for how many tears ready to explode contain ... her oval face ... her elusive chin. Ok it’s not really Miss America but ... she tickles me. Since I met her for work. I was think at this moment for a lot of time ... and i often i touched myself on her photos on the social. We are in the toilet of a pub now. I thrust my cock and the tension making it bigger when it’s in face of her. I wait for his hands ... his hot mouth with those little white irregular teeth. It’s seems pearls. She trembles, takes a big breath and then closes her eyes. Grab with both hands my big dick but the knob remains “uncovered”. I’m circumcised. I grab her head with my right hand and she opens her eyes suddenly and jolts. She looks at me, perplexed, in the grip of a profound agitation.”Hurry up bitch ... could come in someone at any moment.

“I vomited in her face, murmuring. She has a grimace of fear, closes her eyes and tears start to flow on her face. She hiccough and start to push her hands slowly on my dick. In and out. Long hands. Strong toes. Like a designer. As a pianist. Not at all callous and well cared for despite short nails, nibble. A veil of makeup but no glaze: women like this make me crazy. I’m ready to take off her panties and stuff it with my big size inside when an insistent murmur ends up covering the ‘90s dance music pumped at high volume in the club. Her eyes closed, mouth rippled slowly continues to jerk it off. I grab her by the arms and I pull her up: she is taller than me, even if only slightly. Tall. Slender. A missed volleyball player. She looks at me hesitantly. I drag her into one of the toilets closed by a rotten wooden door: luck that it hasn’t the space that allows you to see the feet. She looks at me restlessly, veiled eyes, her face streaked with tears. We are one on the other. The intimate silence is broken by two drunken boys enter like a tornado cackling. She doesn’t know where to look: whether on my big erect cock or on the infamous writings that surround us on the door and the walls. Space is short. I kiss her. Languid. Slowly. Eyes closed. She gasps and instinctively puts her hands against my chest, eyes wide and shiny. Then she lets herself go and kissing me. I touch her little breasts: she does not even wear her bra, the little bitch. She is amazed and seems a prey to shame: she likes the situation ... probably she like me. My cock presses on her belly. She trembles under my touches. And sweats. But she doesn’t take a breath ... she kisses, eyes wide open, palms against the closed door with an old rusty latch. Her nipples are turgid. I titillate it. I overflow them. I kiss her neck slowly with passion. She sweats more and more as my hands come in under her t-shirt that promote an Italian cartoon. His breath grows thicker. I’m going back to kiss her. She reciprocates and moves me a little to go back to saw my cock.