we'm not the brightest cent in the vault, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I've a gift, a superpower if you like to believe that way. The capability to tune into the moment, hearing the need that's let loose as the sunlight comes up, and the aching nakedness of two individuals that find themselves in a circumstance where they simply wish to meld and share their secrets. Or, at least, share the yearning that wells from the core. Those ideas that manifest, making students dilate, flushing your skin in a method that makes you think 'I hope they cant see that'. And yet you secretly hope that they will. People doing individual things
After a thousand encounters, there was constantly one that tugged away, unable to forget. A chance crossing of paths, and a volcanic expression of lust, and we explored each other, doing terrible things that made the neighbours upset, as each touch developed an expression too loud to suppress. She enjoyed to arch her back as my teeth slowly pressed against her inflamed clitoris, wriggling to escape, but never ever doing therefore, before we unhinged her, and watched her clench, and clench, and clench, breathing raggedly