Bulov the Belarusian Bore. My games against him always became drawn-out siege scenarios in dreary landscapes with severe shortage of water or pouring ...ain. It ended in a draw, as usual. Bulov smelled sour like old socks and nibbled raw carrots while playing. My hotel room was too fake-grand. Fake leather couch, thick carpet and a lot of metal that pathetically tried to look like gold. The chords were just plain wrong and something had to be done. My drum kit would have cowed the room into. I saw him trying to catch his breath for a few seconds. I came over behind him and hugged him, of course my boobs pressed up against his back.“And you are sure those are just C-cup boobs?” Travis wondered.“Yes, I could get D-cups with plastic surgery I guess,” I replied.He turned around and felt my boobs.“No, they are perfect mom. I love them,” Travis put on the record.I kissed him once again, as he pinched my nipples. I couldn't help but smile a bit as he pinched them.“Somebody likes having. More

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