you decide when to stop 🎸 💦

It had been a long time since you had been so comfortable in any car. Reminded you of when you as a child and your father would drop you off at school. Two of the four windows were open, in the back seat, where you sat, and even when you were buckled in, you had to loosen your seatbelt, hanging upwards. It was a constant battle between your height and the gaps in the windows, which were too small for you to choose between your safety from the traffic or suffocation from carbon monoxide. When you were tall enough to stop fighting about it, other fights started to set the place on fire. Being fucked by the hard seat of the bicycle was not an option. In fact, the places you sat got worse and worse as you grew older, and your only good memory was on the seat of that trailer, which was not very comfortable, but you were the one driving, you decided where to stop.
Her hand presses your leg, making you stop remembering the past through the window. You look at her. She smiles as she continues to press, not wanting anything more. Harassment of women is uncommon, but the fans of your sex and drugs show have never gone for any whore. Regardless of their personality, whether shy or naughty, they are hunting you and you love this game. Busy? Yes or no? Committed now, treacherous later. You fuck a pussy that throbs for your high position and how many positions do they do for you, they are of the “upside down” type, want to say that they are more useful than just pleasure and you “wHaT A sHaMe” - Too late! Bad luck to them open their legs - You give a taste of "wanting more" because time is too short to be forever… You never fall into their trap.
- We arrived :)
- Oh, yes… Wow.
And you could appreciate the whole house, but you prefer to observe, feel and smell what she serve you and what you can get from it. Those breasts almost resting on the table while her hand rested on her red cheek, elbows on the wooden table. The pure open air that was only tainted by the smell of the whore in front of you and hot coffee - The sweet smoke that set your mind on fire... Very different from home where the natural alarm was your father's screams at your already tired, dissected-minded mother. Maybe the only thing that that coward, unfortunately not suicidal, knew was that two depressant drugs killed, but cocaine in the morning with alcohol saved her from a beating and provided us with some breakfast. How can you let him in? How do you expect me to leave the house? That's all you're good for? Sex and drugs. Sex and drugs. Sex and drugs.
- The coffee is good, isn't it?
- It's a coffee - You smile for free, you want a pussy.
- I really like it... Always reminds me of the coffee you gave me after the audition.
- You.
Her.
- Thank you for not letting them go that far. I... I still keep that tape with me. Not because I can't leave it behind, in fact, I don't want to, I never wanted to... You didn't let it become a bad memory.
After coffee, papers were placed on the table and maybe, this time, you wanted more than a contract with a recording studio, maybe I wanted a forever with Her.

End.