But she wouldn't turn around. I leaned my shoulder against the door frame and watched her move around the kitchen. She wore the shortest skirt she had... the tightest tank top that was in her drawer. Her movements were fluid. I had turned on the music she liked to make love to. She wore the outfit she was sure would tempt me. I pushed off the frame, silently stepping behind her. Her breath caught, the pulse in her neck fluttering wildly. My hands gripped her hips, my erection tight against her. He took a big gulp and got ready. He put on some sweat pants, with holes cut off in the pockets. Her set up the camera room and his tools. He put fake photography awards on his walls. Then he waited. The doorbell rang. He open and there she was. She looked beautiful, thick lips, red lipstick, and long red nails. She was wearing tight jeans, down low showing a bit of a crack off her ass. She had on sandals showing off her beautiful painted red. Her coat was blue denim match her pants and she. More

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