Heather was a bit disappointed in her first true fuck, but it was fun watching the little guy rut. He reminded her of a poodle--all energy and hardly ...ny equipment. He was a squirter, though, and she thought about the semen she'd just taken in her unprotected womb, only she thought about it after she'd taken it. Bearing a bastard was a pleasant thought, but not his bastard. Daddy's bastard, a black man's bastard, a wino's bastard, a rapist's bastard, yes, but not a shrimp, brainiac,. I glanced down at the blank page sitting in front of me. The words I'd like to write down already filling my head."With breasts as soft as doe skin, and nipples oh so tight. I'd love to lick and tickle them, and suck them both all night."There was more, but what was the point? I certainly wasn't about to write that down even though I was thinking it, and at the moment, was about the only thing I could come up with. Not to mention the fact, this particular poem wasn't really supposed to rhyme. More

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