Isso tá parecendo uma cena de filme de exorcismo! 😳
Ainda não consegui entender esse movimento que ela faz com a cabeça! E esse negócio na boca só piora
My Realtor showed Me a House and I Let Him Fvck me In The Master Bedroom..
The house had good bones. Three beds, two baths, a kitchen with natural light and granite counters. I was not in the market for a house. I was not even close to being able to afford a house. I went to the open house because my friend dragged me and I stayed because the realtor had forearms that made me forget the definition of mortgage.
The realtor. Dark charcoal suit, no tie, top button undone, showing a triangle of tanned chest. Hispanic, early forties, clean-shaven with a strong jaw and these dark eyes that crinkled when he smiled. His hair was thick and dark with silver threads and pushed back neatly. He shook my hand and his grip was firm and warm and his palm was smooth and I held it a beat too long.
He showed us the house. My friend was taking it seriously, asking about school districts and water heaters. I was watching him gesture at crown molding and open closets and lean against doorframes and his suit jacket pulled across his shoulders every time he moved and I was imagining pulling it off him.
My friend left. Had to pick up her kid. I should have gone with her. Instead I said "actually, can I see the master bedroom again? I want to check the closet space."
He smiled professionally. "Of course."
We went upstairs. The master bedroom was empty, fresh paint smell, carpet soft under our shoes. The afternoon light was warm through the windows. He opened the walk-in closet and gestured and I stepped inside and it was large and empty and I turned and he was in the doorway and the closet was small enough that we were close.
"Great closet" I said.
"Custom built-ins could go here." He pointed past me and his arm was beside my head and his body was close and his cologne was sharp and clean, citrus and cedar, and I could feel the heat coming off him through his suit.
"I'm not buying this house" I said.
"I figured."
"I'm twenty and I make twelve dollars an hour."
"I know." His arm was still up, pointing at nothing now. His eyes were on my mouth. "So why did you stay?"
"Why do you think."
He lowered his arm. Slowly. His hand touched my jaw, tilting my face up. "I don't do this. For the record."
"Me neither. For the record."
He kissed me in the walk-in closet of a house he was trying to sell. His mouth was confident and his tongue was slow and his hand went from my jaw to my neck to the small of my back pulling me against him and I felt his cock hardening against my hip through his suit pants.
Tava aqui vendo que já tem quase 18 anos que uso twitter e pode parecer um vida toda mas quando lembro das músicas que eu ouvia em 2010 parece que foi logo ontem, o tempo é muito maluco