Popcorn And Chill / Annie Anne / Met Art

I take my time following her toned legs all the way up, picturing her lips parting so sweetly for mine while I rest a knee between hers. From that fine moment I'd sink into her softness in any way she likes: I'll fill her with my throbbing love pole and swerve my hips exactly how she begs, or she can slide that hot sex right onto my waiting face if she wants. She can turn right way around and take her choice of any one of my fat, fat, hard cocks. I'm about to pull out my jeans when I hear a beep from the door and feel a buzz in my pocket. My buddy Tim comes crashing into our shared living room, clattering his book-bag to the floor before throwing himself onto a sofa cushion, facedown, beside me. We were roommates and then, more recently, neighbors when he moved across the hall after the start of summer. After we caught the train home together in the city, my nose had been buried in a new science-fiction novel all the way until he'd had a pint and some fresh air. Tim only really came back for me and to give me a kick. I was supposed to have gone out clubbing tonight, but had settled on a lazy evening instead and he had missed me at his own bar. I set down the remote. "How's it going, Tim? How are all the babes at the club treating you?" I ask sarcastically. He grumbles indistinctly into his cushion. I laugh and poke at his ribs with a toe. "And what sort of state are you in at the end of that evening?"