"Why, Jeff? Tell me why I'm not the one." "I can only tell you what I feel, Whitney." Her hand slithered over the taut muscle of his thigh and onto ...he object of her desire that slept between his legs. "You feel this don't you? Tell me." He hissed in response, "Girl, I feel you," Jeffrey's dick danced. "And this ain't about sex." He opened the door and stumbled out intending to open her door. Whitney didn't wait for him to open the door, she pounced. Determined, horny, and angry, she. I was pressing harder, rolling his dick around in the soft sweats. No way he was going to say it.“Can you teach me?” I said.“You ... already ... seem to know ... a lot.” But he was tugging at the back of my shirt — his shirt — pulling it up over my ass. I lifted my knee and showed him my curly thatch, and the swollen lips underneath and the two fleshy bulbs that poked out at the top.His hand was so soft, so expert. He knew how to touch a girl better than my boyfriend did. He worked me open. More

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