Like Alice, he was also an artist but a photographer rather than a painter. The two of them had met at some community non-profit art project but Alyss... had switched off halfway through the story, too lost in the furrow between his brows. She was mature enough to know falling for someone so easily wasn’t sensible. It was crazy. It was ridiculous.She sucked in a long breath. Sweat. Did he know what he did to her? Could he possibly? She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out more of him through the. Her red hair was disheveled. The sheets of her bed were twisted, and one corner of the fitted sheet had pulled loose. Her fingers were glistening with pussy juice where they lay across her thigh, partially covering the lipstick smears that had once been my name.A dark spot decorated the sheet below her pussy, caused by the dribble of juices hanging from her labia. Her wetness was spattered everywhere between her legs, showing just how fervently she was masturbating, and how hard she’d. More

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