Jim also noticed that Van had left his wallet and his key for the bungalow on the bar. Jim turned back to his drink and muttered under his breath, ‘...ucking Putz!’ Jim took two twenties out of Van’s wallet and put them on the bar. He tossed off the rest of his beer and ordered another. Van quickly sized up the situation as he made his way to the court yard: A super hot girl coming in for breakfast… no girlfriends… beach bag on the chair next to her… no boyfriend… Van mentally planned his. She arched her back and hooked one of her hungry knees behind Lata’s head, and the blond Russian leaned into it, kissing and licking with more frantic passion than Cinder had expected. Gone was the almost clinical skill, the musician’s fingers that had wrung every mewl and moan and gasp and squirm from Cinder that could have been snatched. In their place was a fierce, eager coaxing – her knuckles almost pounding against Cinder, her tongue questing inside of Cinder’s cunt. Finding a place inside. More

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