Know what I wish I was doing? Camping with the guys. "Why?" you ask? Because I wish everyone of those guys was rubbing his cock over my face, slapping...my pussy, fucking my ass. Damn. I'm seriously so horny, I should not even be writing.I was going to try to write another story for Babble (the site I originally posted this story for). But it's not even worth it. I can't think about a well written piece of fiction. All I can do is think about cocks and pussies. Yes pussies too. I would take. I lay there, howling pitifully.Peter was undoing my bonds. Hushing me and trying to calm my wretched sobbing. "It's all right," he said soothingly, "you've had enough of that." I began to slowly regain my senses. Peter was kneeling astride my head. I was still blubbering in abject misery as he took my head in his hands and began roughly to fuck my mouth. He grasped my hair and began savagely thrusting his lust gorged cock into my mouth, jamming into my cheeks and then thrusting right to the. In a quick, surprising motion, she also lept from the barstool and kissed me on the cheek. Her lips were soft, and I felt bashful. It wasn’t every day a caramel blonde whose name you don’t even know… wait, I realized I hadn’t even asked for her name!“Course I didn’t, Miss…”“Rachel! And good choice, I lo-uh-OVE tequila, Mister…” “Drew. I thought you might. Do we know each other from somewhere? You look familiar.”“I don’t think we do! But we’re going to know each other very well very soon. I saw. When I came back after returning the mobile, Mangala was still in the balcony watching the Eiffel tower. It was standing tall and lighted. It was the month of May. I moved to the balcony. I could see that a couple of guys were staring at her from another room balcony.I went beside her, stood beside her keeping both hands over balcony railings passed through her waist either side. She was standing there wearing a saree and jasmine flowers from her long plait. I kissed her neck and placed my palm.
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