You take a fistful of the back of my hair and use it to urge my face to yours. You kiss my mouth, encapsulating me. Deep, slow, sensual. I want you. I...need you.You unbutton my blouse while you continue kissing my mouth and my neck, all the while grinding your growing cock into my groin.'Fuck, I need you inside me,' I beg into your ear.'I know,' you smile salaciously as you undo my bra. You push my blouse over my shoulders and onto the floor. The bra meets the same fate.'Oh god, please,' I beg. The bra was simple and whitewith small cups like one Leslie wore when she was 12. "Her parents found a torn bra in the basement. At first they thoughtthere was foul play, but a detective noticed the painting. If she painted atorn bra, then it was probably some weird parting statement." "Weird," Leslie murmured, watching Rebecca stow the painting ina cardboard box. "And you said this was the only work she didn't destroy?" "Yep," Rebecca said, handing over the box. "Her parents didn'twant the. More

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