Then I pulled him up from the floor. He was heavy – non-compliant – defeated – drunk. It was messy. It reminded me of … me.That – and only t...at – gave me the strength to pull him up the stairs and into his room. I tossed him on his bed. He was mumbling now. Incoherently. “Handsome. Fucking handsome loser. Faggot.”I ignored that, knowing he was long gone and not sure whether he was referring to him or me.Off came the shoes. Then the pants. He resisted the shirt but I won, yanking it over his. "I found the spot then?" Yesssss," she breathed. But the itch was moving again."No! Lower!" she cried."Lower?" he asked, his hands rounding the curve of her ass and heading downward."Lower!" she cried."Your legs?" he asked."No!" she cried. The itch wasn't headed down her legs. It was tunneling between them to... "Here?" he asked, a single finger scratching the patch of skin between her asshole and her pussy."Yes! Yes! Yes!" she shouted. She pushed back up on her hands."Deeper!" she cried as the. More

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