I hide my impatience well though, trying to distract myself by conversing with his friends. I'm not faking it by the time Michael and I are arguing wh...'s a better guitarist; Jimi Hendrix or Keith Richards. I love the Rolling Stones, but there's no denying Jimi could shred like a fucking god, even if Keith is still alive. Ethan busts out his stash, and the subject quickly mellows down to a list of all the concerts we've been to. Distracting hippies with weed, smart man. John and Gwen leave. He reached down and slid his hand under her thong touching her soft smooth mons. “You’re shaved?” he asked excitedly. “You are going to fucking kill me,” he growled. Michael spread her labia folds open, as his fingers glided up and down her cleft. “Fuck!” he shrieked. He pressed against the hard small mound and rubbed his finger into it. “Mmmm,” Autumn moaned again. “Yeah,” he responded, gasping. He slid his fingers between her folds again, pulling on the loose long lips. “Fuck these are some. More

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