She smelled like passion fruit and watermelon, an intoxicating melody that seemed perfectly at home in the summer. Her hair was dark brown, but you co...ld barely tell without being under direct sunlight. Otherwise it looked black like every other Asian’s. The strands flowed freely down the nape of her neck and onto the bed, though some stuck to her wet skin. She was still sweating, but so was I. She was a small creature, easily bundled in my arms. Small, but warm – both inside and out. Her. She loosened his patent leather belt and slid her hand into his slackened pants. It felt good, soft skin draped around a long steel rod. Michael unbuttoned his shirt, still pressed against the front door. Rose was fiercely kissing his neck as she stroked the base of his cock. He felt her wrist becoming wet as she worked the precum out of the tip. When she felt the wet tip, Rose’s mouth began to water. At once, like their souls were on the same wave length, Michael pushed her down and Rose put. More

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