Later, I asked her point blank..."How did you do it, Cyn? I mean, what makes you so happy.?" I innocently asked."You wouldn't understand it, Kris." Sh... replied. "It's not what a lot of people really think could be rewarding."Acknowledging her meaning, I simply went on to another topic. Yet somehow I knew in her voice there was something far more involved. In school, whenever Cindi was deeply passionate about something, she always got this serious tone in her voice. Just like when we ran. My story is about when i was 16 and wasnt feeling too great at school so the teachers decided to send me home. I quickly rushed home when they let me go. I reached home and as always i go through the back door because its open all the time. As i entered my house and placed my bag on the table in the living room, i heard screams which sounded like my mom and a guy talking. It was coming from upstairs, scared to death, i slowly started walking upstairs, thinking somebody was attacking my mom. I. Instead she used the glass window as a backrest, her elbows resting on her knees and her fingers turning the mug around to keep her fingers moving. She had always had problems keeping her fingers still, it drove her crazy to just sit or lie without moving.The coffee tasted especially great, probably because it was one of the decent but cheap blends that the city’s rich and poor scoffed at equally in their mutual ignorance.For a moment Laura wondered why virtually nobody moved out here and. I moved my hands to her hips and pulled them hard towards me. Her head was against the wall as we continued to kiss, and her pussy was grinding against my cock.As we kissed, she started to moan into my mouth and constantly throwing her head back in pleasure to gasp. I moved my lips down to her neck, kissing along the lining of her cheeks. Her moans turned into screams, screams of wanting more of the pleasure, more of the pain, more of submission.She climbed onto my hips and threw her legs.
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