I rummaged through the pile, searching until my hands came across a feather light pair of silky, midnight black pantyhose brushing against my fingers. Covered in sweat, I quietly zipped up, lost for words as I stood there scratching the top of my head. I was kind of scared at first, but he looked fairly harmless so I chose to ignore it rather than causing a scene. Just tell me one thing. Knowing how critical some women are, she might have described herself as overweight.
She flicked her cigarette, tossing it down the sink, then reached over and opened her purse, pulling out a small plastic bottle.
I headed back downstairs trying to process all the twisted thoughts scrambling through my mind. I stared off into space, tapping my pencil against the desk, dreading the thought of going home, certain of what was destined to come. So I promptly fished them from the pile of laundry thrown on my bed and handed them right over. Leave a comment Comments The frown on her face instantly told me she could feel how hard I was. He must have thought I was flirting when he looked up and smiled back at me. By then, I was pummeling my cock with a vengeance, bent on ruining her pantyhose no matter what, dying to soak every thread with a massive wad of thick greasy spunk, purely out of spite.