Paul's Place✔🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘❌
◀️ (Click the picture for a focused view)

The vibe here is relaxed.

BBQ Chicken 🍗Ta fricken die for... 🐔 and apple crisps 🍎
Humus and other stuff for you vegans.
The wine rack is fully loaded...
... and there's beer and vodka slushies...
in the fridge.

😶 Good sex is like bridge.
If you don't have a good partner,
you'd better have a good hand.

(* ©April 2018-19 November Paul P. )
Affichage titre | Recommander à un ami |
My Private Mail Box
Publié :12/7/2018 9h41
Dernière mise à jour :11/11/2019 14h27
193169 vues
My Private Mail Box 📩 ....
Click Comments , leave a message and check your own Blog Main Page - 'Where I.m Quoted' ... or come back here.
🍸 ☕
Click the PIC for a large view ...
0 commentaires , 100 En cours
Just... Like A Warm Scarf... ❤️
Publié :11/11/2019 12h00
Dernière mise à jour :13/11/2019 17h05
820 vues
As she stepped into the empty house, sadness rushed to greet her. She closed the door and listened, to the gloomy silence and her own breathing. The keys in her hands jingled cheerfully, as if to mock her.

Her heels clicked across the dark grey, stone tiled floor and echoed, off bare white walls. She reached the kitchen and paused. Slowly, she pulled the keys off the brass ring and threw them, on the black marble counter. He ... had already been there and had left his set... neatly stacked and perfectly labelled.

She sighed, as she glanced at her watch and realized she was early. The real estate agent, wouldn't be there for another hour. She'd linger one last time, in a home where she'd lived, for more than thirty years.

Imagined voices and giggles called to her. She followed them... down the hallway and up the stairs. She walked into rooms, once littered with toys and dolls ; where clothes had been strewn, in piles on beds. She smiled to herself, recalling all those silly , motherly complaints.

The walls, with all their tiny holes and scratches and scribbles (in pencil and pen), offered clues... that someone had lived there. Time had been measured in inches... as they'd grown. "My gosh. Were they really, that little?" she thought, as she crouched down to touch her daughters' initials. They were squiggled in red and blue crayon and had nearly faded, into invisibility.

In another room, she closed her eyes and could almost smell - the fresh paint. She'd always loved that shade of green and was proud of her efforts with a roller, and a brush. He , would never forget to remind her... just how much he hated - chartreuse.

Eventually, she wandered back into the kitchen. An open drawer, drew her closer. She peered in and... tucked at the back... found something, that had been left behind. It was a picture. A small one, framed by the people who sold it to her. You've probably seen them - those pictures, that is. They're the ones snapped as you roar down the steep angles of 'epic' rides, at amusement parks.

The image, was of the four of them - her family. Their mouth's were open, hands raised and laughter frozen, in that moment. She recalled... it had been raining. The park was deserted and there were no lines, for any of the rides. They'd actually ridden the giant roller coaster, four times in a row ! " That ... was a really great day," she smiled.

She held the photo closely, while peering into the expressions, of her children. "The girls look so tiny. We all look... so young. Everyone's happy. Even him ," she thought. "... even him."

Her children live a thousand miles away. They're adults now, with family's of their own. They call... occasionally. That amusement park has been closed, ages ago, torn down... and replaced with condos. She brushed her hair with her fingers... and glanced at her watch. Tears welled up in her eyes. She fought hard, not to blink.

Ever have one of those days, when sadness and nostalgia wrap around your throat, like a warm scarf... that you just don't want to take off - even if you know, it's choking you?

She stood there... clutching that photograph tightly, with both her hands ; afraid to let it go. She blinked. Tears fell... on cold black marble... in tiny mirrored puddles.

. ..
38 commentaires
Little Red Riding Hood... Wanted To Get Eaten... 😮
Publié :7/11/2019 11h35
Dernière mise à jour :13/11/2019 6h38
1887 vues
Yeah... something different . Click on the pictures to see a LARGE view.

"But Grandmother!  What big teeth you have," said Little Red Riding Hood, her voice quivering slightly.

"The better to eat you with, my dear," roared the wolf.

Who doesn't know those words? The story of "Little Red Riding Hood" can be traced back to the tenth (10th) century, to several European folk tales.

The most known early version is one from Italy called, "The False Grandmother" (Italian: La finta nonna). Of course, the best known versions were written by Charles Perrault and the Brothers Grimm.

Folklorists and cultural anthropologists, saw "Little Red Riding Hood" in terms of solar myths and other naturally occurring cycles.

Her red hood could represent the bright sun which is ultimately swallowed by the terrible night (the wolf), and the variations in which she is cut out of the wolf's belly represent the dawn.

The tale has been interpreted as a puberty rite. The girl, leaving home, enters a liminal state and by going through the acts of the tale, is transformed into an adult woman by the act of coming out of the wolf's stomach.

Erotic, romantic, or r.ape connotations? I have those for you as well. A sexual analysis of the tale may also include negative connotations in terms of r.ape or abduction.

However, many revisionist retellings choose to focus on empowerment, and depict Little Red Riding Hood or the grandmother successfully defending herself against the wolf.

Such tellings bear some similarity to the "animal bridegroom" tales, such as 'Beauty and the Beast' or 'The Frog Prince', but where the heroines of those tales transform the hero into a prince, these tellings of Little Red Riding Hood reveal to the heroine that she has a wild nature like the hero's. These interpretations refuse to characterize Little Red Riding Hood as a victim; these are tales -of female empowerment.

What does this story mean to me? Well... I liked the drawings that I found, in the version I read to my kids. Soo innaproriate for young eyes aren't they? Almost like a horror movie. I often wonder if fairy tales were written to be read to children as entertainment or just to scare the shit out of them. Some of them, scared the crap outta me.

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38 commentaires
Sex In Jamaica... or Kids in The Kitchen... FrankeeZee Had Hope... 😊
Publié :4/11/2019 12h40
Dernière mise à jour :9/11/2019 4h50
2741 vues
I was over at Gina's place - *FrankeeZee's cousin - last Saturday. She and her husband Gino ( yes... Gina and Gino ), had bought a home entertainment system. FrankeeZee and I were crouched in the living room, buried in bubble wrap and styrofoam... hooking it up for them. The house was popping full of screaming kids and raucous adults.

Gina... and Maria ( another cousin), were sitting in the nearby kitchen - their two babies, crying on their laps. Their four other kids, were squealing and yelling ; chasing each other round... and under, Gina's large kitchen table.

Amidst the cacophony, the two 'Cousin Moms' jealously critiqued the latest pictures, from (their younger cousin) Lina - on vacation in Jamaica. Maria pointed to the cell phone and exclaimed (to no one in particular) ; "Look at Lina standing there on the beach. A fricken pineapple in her hand , a palm tree by her side... and the fricken ocean in the background. How is she there ... and we're HERE ? HOW ?"

"Condoms, " FrankeeZee blurted out to me, under his breath.

He plugged an RCA jack into the main console. I looked at my buddy and shook my head.

"What? It's true, for fucks sake," he rasped, nodding.

That 'new' wireless sound system we were installing, had speakers, in every room in the house. When FrankeeZee and I did the sound check, I'm not sure if anyone in THAT house, even heard it.

The kids were busy bursting bubble wrap, as FrankeeZee and I, finally escaped. We waved goodbye to 'all' and scurried into FrankeeZee's Jeep.

Sitting in that driveway, far from the mayhem (content in total silence)... we looked at each other and smiled. FrankeeZee spoke ; "When I have kids? They're gonna be quiet kids. Ya know the type Paul. No screaming and yelling or crazy stuff. "

"How ya gonna manage that, Frankee? You're not into kids. You don't understand them or like them. You're never gonna have kids. It's too late for you."

FrankeeZee looked at me, slowly shook his head and smiled wryly. For a second... I thought I'd hurt Frankee's feelings. And then he spoke ; "Paul... get fucking serious! I'm gonna adopt . Hopefully... a university graduate."

FrankeeZee grinned a wide grin. Before I could reply, he'd started the engine, turned on the radio and was cruising out onto the main road. The volume was so loud, we couldn't talk. Just as well. I had nothing to say. What could I say?

I can't see FrankeeZee with kids, at all. Some folks are built for children and some... aren't. Right?

*FrankeeZee is a member and top blogger, of ™FOGCAF - Friends Of Good Clean Adulterous Fun
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43 commentaires
Breakfast... ☕And A Brazilian Wax... With FrankeeZee... 😮
Publié :29/10/2019 12h20
Dernière mise à jour :4/11/2019 8h20
4256 vues
Last weekend, * FrankeeZee and I, were anchored a.t that new breakfast spot on Rosemount, over in the east end of the city.

Huge mounds of food and a plethora of enticing aromas engulfed us. 'No one, can safely eat that much bacon and all those pancakes, floating in sooo much maple syrup,' I thought t.o myself. FrankeeZee's laptop was fired up and as usual - he was diligently working on his blog, when he looked up at m.e...

"Hey Paul... After we eat, ya wanna come with me, while I get my balls and ass waxed? I've got an appointment for a 'Brazilian', just down the street."

I almost choked on my coffee, as I stared at my buddy. "Why the fuc.k... would I wanna do that?"

"Cause you need a lift home? And I want you t.o film it... for my blog."

I looked at my friend and blinked. "So your goal is t.o look, like a pubescent t.een? I guess your new girlfriend put you up t.o this?"

"As a matter of fact, it's a popular thing in Florida. I.m doing research into women and men and the shit they do, to get their kink on. Part of the 'Self Help Series', on my blog. Did you know that a New Yorker, invented 'Brazilian Waxing'?"

I'd almost lost my appetite for the beans, hash browns and eggs, piled on my plate. But then the waitress, served the fresh fruit. We ate like pigs. The eventual walk to that 'esthetic parlor', was a slow one, as we waddled down the street and finally stepped inside.

I never ended up in the actual room, with FrankeeZee. Linda - his girlfriend from Florida - showed up and (thankfully) took over camera duties. I sat in the waiting room. Periodically I'd hear a scream and an encouraging ; "You go b.aby ," from Linda.

As I sat, a burp accidentally escaped and a thought materialized. Those breakfast places popping up all around, are overrated, no? I mean... how much rich food can one person enjoy, before their stomach gives o.ut? Mine was about to... just as FrankeeZee, gingerly walked out of that room.

He had a sheepish grin, painted on his f.ace. His girlfriend was smiling from ear to ear, excitedly waving her camera screen a.t m.e; showing m.e shots of 'sheer shorn' Frankee. "Paul... Paul... Ya gotta go get one. It's so hot," she exclaimed, giggling.

I clutched my stomach. Tooo many waffles.

What do you think of Breakfast joints... and Brazilian Wax jobs?
Not together... mind you.

*FrankeeZee is a member and top blogger, of ™FOGCAF - Friends Of Good Clean Adulterous Fun
. ..
50 commentaires
It Was Saturday Night... She Walked Into The Shadows... and Paused... 😶
Publié :26/10/2019 18h19
Dernière mise à jour :4/11/2019 8h00
4923 vues
She walked down the stairs and strutted through the door, into the dimly lit bar. A brisk gust of wind and a stylish black dress (framing long slim legs), announced her arrival. She stood there... with a quizzical pout. Seven pairs of eyes leaned towards her.

It was one of those quiet clubs. You know the type ; varnished oak wood everywhere, a long marble bar, and small candle lit tables. A cluster of hopeful, well dressed men, commiserated alone... in the dar They rarely got lucky and never succeeded, with a new face. Repetition and bad habits and 'nowhere else go' - defined their purpose. She walked amongst their grey shadows and paused...

Was she lost? Or looking for someone? The men held themselves back yet each... wanted lunge. She cozied up the edge of the bar and asked a question. "Is this place called 'Winnie's'? We're supposed meet here."

The bartender put down the glass he was wiping and leaned over her ; "No. 'Winnie's' is next door. But we have a 'happy hour'. Go meet your friend and come back here. Ya like jazz? We got a trio playing later."

She looked at him and smiled. "Thanks. I may just do that."

With a flip of her head and a cascading flourish of her jet black hair, she pushed herself away and walked back out... from where she came.

Seven pairs of eyes, slowly dipped into their drinks and sipped the night... a little deeper into oblivion . There was still hope. The regulars hadn't yet shown up.

Kinda reminds you of this place, in some ways - doesn't it ? Except... everyone, has a drink in their hands.

. ..

Ever go into a bar like that? 🎃🍷🍸
Whatcha y'all doing tonight ? 🤔
39 commentaires
Couples... Have Conversations... And Make Plans... And Have Sex... 😊 🔥
Publié :24/10/2019 12h03
Dernière mise à jour :4/11/2019 12h36
5446 vues
I was part of a couple ... once. We'd have sex from time to time. I also remember (when we weren't 'doing it' ), the reassuring warmth I'd feel, as we'd playfully snuggle up next to each other and discuss new plans and adventures. As I think back now, many 'great ideas' - went south. I recall one day...

She finally found the tennis rackets, that were lost in the closet. She looked at me gleefully and smiled. "We should see if Greg and Andrea wanna play doubles."

"That's a great idea," I replied. "It will be..."

"... fucking STUPID ...! " she shouted angrily at me (drenched in sweat), hours later. We'd lost seven straight sets.

Then there was the time, I'd dug up the picnic basket. I had always boasted how much fun, picnics in the forest were. I carefully packed it up with wine and cheese and all sorts of goodies... and proudly announced to her ; "Now I'll show you exactly why ..."

"... I HATE... fucking mosquitoes," she yelled at me (that afternoon), while smacking another one off her thigh." Did you even bring, the fucking spray? Why do I have to do everything for you?"

Or the moment I pulled out our tent, from under some clutter in the garage. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking ?" I looked at her.

She giggled back at me and excitedly replied; "Camping is sooo much..."

"... fucking BULLSHIT !" I bellowed at her, as we drove out of that monsoon flooded camp site.

On another occasion, I had a well intentioned notion - to take her fishing. She was eager to try it out. I prepared her for the experience ; "Wait ... till we get out on that beautiful, long pier."

"I know," she laughed back at me, while hurriedly packing up the car. "I've got a feeling, that this is gonna be..."

"... shittier than I thought... it EVER could be," she whined to me after many fishless hours, in the blazing summer sun.

And of course, I'll always think back fondly, to the year we decided to host - Christmas dinner - at our home. I looked at her, as I helped set the beautiful table. Carols played in the background, as I spoke ; "You know? I'm happy we're having everyone, over here. "

She lovingly leaned over and kissed me and replied ; "Me too. I am genuinely excited about getting everyone ..."

"... to fucking leave , as SOON as possible," she hissed to me, later that evening. The turkey, hadn't been served yet.

That's the way, a lot of our adventures worked out. Couples have dialogues and make plans. Single people have monologues and just - do it. I don't mind the monologues. At least I'm not hearing the words - ' Go fuck yourself' - as often.

You must have your own favorite conversations, adventures and some good ideas - that went bad... right? 🤔
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44 commentaires
Sounds Of Sex... Are Universal... Everyone Knows Them... 😊 🔥💦
Publié :22/10/2019 12h29
Dernière mise à jour :1/11/2019 8h47
6190 vues
This morning, I was stuck in traffic (lost somewhere in space), when the guy behind me, startled me by blasting his horn. I moved forward ten feet. It got me thinking...

Sound ... is an interesting, undervalued sense , that many of us - find t.o be a nuisance . We'll complain ; "The music is deafening. She's not talking, she's yelling. Will someone shut those dogs up?". And then there are the sounds we utter and crave ... when we make love . Do you know them all?

1. Moans and Groans : Extremely popular with both men and women. Occasionally into a neck or a pillow. At a loss for words? Try a moan. Self-conscious about being loud? Use your 'library voice' while having an orgasm.

2. Dirty Talk : I won't bother listing examples. Your mind is already filling in the blanks. You've probably experimented, with whatever came to your head.

3. Heavy Breathing and Panting : Rushed, deep, filled with lust and a clue... that you're really close! You're giving it your best shot and loving every moment of it.

4. The whisper : It might be intimate ... or do you have roommates? Are you afraid to wake up the kids or arouse your neighbours?

5. Grunts : Rhythmic and paired with thrusting and a look that says ;"Oh yeah baby... This feels good. Fuck me!"

6. A Yelp or Squeal : Confusing at first, it usually means something really good happened. Can you try that again? Did someone touch a nerve? You bet they did.

7. Slurping : Stuff happens, with a mouth - full - of saliva and him/her.

8. Sloosh : That sound a penis makes when it slides into and along the velvet walls of a perfectly wet vagina. Ya know what I mean? I could also have said vagina 'farts'. They're the ones that you make 'doggy style', when air gets trapped? Cute!

9. Yelling : “Oh yeah, you like that baby ?”  Takes a bit of getting used to. If the neighbours and kids don't mind - why should you care. Yell all you want!

10. The Announcement : “I’m coming.” Your partner loves to get this information in a timely manner. Gives them a chance to prepare, by removing a mouth, holding a pair of balls, clutching a breast or devouring each other with a kiss.

11. Screaming : Letting the world know, that you're having the time of your life. And what's wrong with that?

12. Dead Silence : And now we've come full circle. I read somewhere that, twelve percent of women and eight percent of men, say they like... total silence . Where all they can hear is the sound of their lover's heart beat and the wetness of their kisses.

Some sounds are priceless and soo much fun to listen to. Not, that fricken truck horn blaring behind me though. I inched my car forward... another ten feet.

What's your favorite sound in the bedroom?
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61 commentaires
Jailhouse Sex Will Have to Wait... At Least For Now...😮
Publié :17/10/2019 12h46
Dernière mise à jour :11/11/2019 13h23
7927 vues
Anal Sex ... Who thinks about it, right? I've been thinking about it a lot... and not in that good way. Jailhouse sex, is just not a dream of mine. Yesterday I got a phone call, that allayed my fears.

Do you recall a month or so ago, where I mentioned that I got into a dubious, touch of trouble and was arrested? There was this question of how, a can of Campbell's soup, got into a bag I carried ; where there was no receipt for the purchase?

In fact... the entire event, was a touch more intriguing. In any case, I will not be going to prison. Charges were dismissed. Which pleases me, to no end. I'm thrilled! And yet... at the same time, this brings up some whimsical hopes I had.

Hardship, pathos and suffering - breed successful art. Don't they? History confirms my theory.

Springing back from this challenge, I thought I might write something profound ; craft that song and those perfect lyrics. Perhaps take that poignant picture ; depicting couples in love. I was definitely preparing for that - jail 'shower scene' . I'd even practiced juggling soap... just in case. I never bought the hair brush or the lube - for 'self practise'. Although... I thought about it.

Now... I feel like a changed man. And I will never get caught, stealing anything again. More importantly, I'll chalk this up to experience and move on. I am a better person, in spite of that event. I'll be good, from now on... mostly.

A lady friend of mine cheerfully offered to peg me... in case I really want to know what it feels like. I'm not really thinking about it... 🤔

Can people change?

. ..
76 commentaires
Stuff Happens... When Squirrels Get Involved...😕
Publié :14/10/2019 12h48
Dernière mise à jour :8/11/2019 7h58
8028 vues
Preparing for stuff to happen ; we do it all our lives, right?

Preparing for school, preparing for work, for dinner, for an exam... for the right opportunity. We even prepare for death. That summer (many years ago), I prepared to go to Scout camp. I assigned my parents one duty, while I was away ; take care of my little and my tiny turtle. That's... all I wanted. Guess what?

When I came back from camp, I realized something was strange. My hadn't come to the door to greet me. I asked my parents to explain. Mom suddenly blurted out ; "Your is dead."

I was shocked and devastated. "How can you just say that Mom? You can't just blurt stuff like that out. Ya have to prepare me! You coulda said ; '... your was playing in the yard, chasing a squirrel, when he ran out into the street... and got hit a car'. Well Mom? Ya coulda said something like that. Prepared me... you know? I looked at mom and dad sadly. Dad looked at mom, then at me... and spoke...

"... your turtle was playing in the yard, chasing a squirrel...."

I wasn't pleased with my parents' ability to follow simple directions and keep gates and cages locked. Several months later, my parents walked into my room and began a sentence ; "... your grandmother was playing in the yard... "

I didn't have to hear much more. I knew Granny got hit a car, while chasing a squirrel. But at least I was prepared. And who doesn't want to be prepared - you know what I mean?

Or do you prefer surprises? 🤔

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40 commentaires
Gold 👑 vs Standard Membership... The Difference... Will Shock You 😲
Publié :11/10/2019 12h29
Dernière mise à jour :22/10/2019 12h23
9135 vues
I've been both a Gold👑... and a Standard member - here on A F F . I enjoy each , for different reasons. However there are differences. What are they? I asked members, their opinions and thoughts. I then massaged all those points of view and gently compressed them for you, in a succinct review.


Gold Membership ; is like being, a really fast dolphin , swimming across the expansive seas and oceans of the world, frolicking freely in the deepest fathoms, through all shades... of blue. You go and come... when you want and you feed... at your leisure .


Standard Membership ; is like being, a goldfish, in an aquarium. It's nice and colorful... and full of bubbles. But you're grateful, very soon, that your goldfish memory , only lasts - seven and a half seconds. Since it only lasts that long, you're oblivious as you wait - forever - by the surface for those flakes of food... periodically dropped your way.


Other than THAT ; Gold👑 and Standard Memberships are identical .
Sort of... 😶

. ..
57 commentaires
Go write on a REAL website... With a REAL blog... Fucker! 😳😮
Publié :10/10/2019 12h12
Dernière mise à jour :21/10/2019 14h32
9396 vues
It was two in the morning. He was still up, watching sports highlights and charging the phone. The e. mail emoji chimed. He tapped his cell open... and raised his eyebrows... as he read, what she wrote.

"You are so full of shit ! You think you're so smart and glib! You think you're so witty and funny! Well you're not! You're just an asshole, who plays with words and manipulates people's feelings!

You think you can write? You think you're better than everyone?
You can't write worth shit! You're just a conceited dick, with an ego the size of your head! Get a grip and look around. Do you have a life, outside the fantasy you've created, on THAT site? You're a sociopath. Get some mental help!

You want to write? Go write on a REAL website, with a REAL blog, fucker! See how far you get! And stop harassing me! "

He looked at her words and blinked. He was confused... to say the least. "Hey... stuff happens, right?" he mumbled to himself. What had he done, to deserve THAT e.m.ail, from her? It's not like they were an exclusive couple or anything. He thought they were getting along... really well.

He was still in shock and slowly... very slowly, began composing his response ; when his phone... chimed again.

"So sorry! SO, SO SORRY! My bad! That e.m.ail, wasn't for YOU. It was for somebody else. I messed up! Disregard and DELETE. Please!

"Somebody else? Who... was her intended recipient?" he sat befuddled. He did as she suggested and deleted the e.m.ail. Then... pausing... he quicky recovered 'it' from the 'Trash' and saved 'it' - just in case. He wondered if she really had , made a mistake ; or was her note, a drunken - 'truth serum' - misstep. Perhaps... that's how she really felt about him?

He wasn't sure.

Her suggestion that he look into alternative blog sites - was a good one. Her other suggestion - get some mental help? Well... he Googled ; 'Am I a narcissist or a sociopath?'.

He wasn't sure about that either. .

Ever pressed 'Enter' ... and then regretted it?
. ..
57 commentaires
Is It Love... Or Does She Just... Reeeelee Like You... 🤔
Publié :7/10/2019 12h18
Dernière mise à jour :9/10/2019 21h17
10120 vues
He liked her.

Although he'd only known her for a few hours - he knew - he could learn to 'like' her... even more . The DJ played another tune. He held her tightly in his arms... enjoying the warmth of her breasts and softness of her skin, as he held his cheek against hers. She draped her arms tightly around his neck ; admiring the strength in his arms and the firmness, of his shoulders.

They'd been slow dancing, u.nder the glow, of dark shadows and in the path of music... that was too loud, for any conversation. They both, became familiar with each other's curves and bumps. Wet tongues explored open mouths. Eyes closed, as they would... when you inhale someone's essence, for the first time. Their mutual exploration reached a zenith, just as the last ballad played and the final notes... faded into the walls. On cue... large overhead lights, flooded the club with unholy brilliance.

They both stood... momentarily blinded.

He hoped he was good looking enough , for her - in that magnesium glare. He braced himself as she squinted at him and paused. Then... peering into his eyes, she gently stroked his jaw, with the tips of her fingers, ran her hand through his thick, black hair... and spoke...

"Ya know... once my eyes adjust to this fricken light... and a few more drinks... I'd be happy... to sit on your f.ace ," she blurted o.ut, laughing.

Leaning forward on her toes, she kissed him, with giddy enthusiasm. He kissed her back ; grateful that he'd found her. In that moment... he knew - he liked her a lot ! "It might even be LOVE ."

His thought was interrupted, as he choked on her tongue... when she grabbed his balls.

'Like', 'Lust', 'Love' - are they all clearly defined, with different conclusions ; Or can they all wind up in the bedroom anyway ? 🤔
. ..
53 commentaires

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