Into the Phonebooth



Good morning. Won't you help me wake up?
Maybe, won't you climb up
On top of me
And ride me into consciousness?
Thighs straddling mine..
Eyes locked on mine...
Feels so divine..
Thrusting up to blow your mind...

Won't you help me wake up?
Please?
 
I'm still trying to figure out where one finds a phone booth in 2015. But if I find one, I hope it's the one you're in.
 


Good morning. Won't you help me wake up?
Maybe, won't you climb up
On top of me
And ride me into consciousness?
Thighs straddling mine..
Eyes locked on mine...
Feels so divine..
Thrusting up to blow your mind...

Won't you help me wake up?
Please?


*cheers for the poem and oogles the eye candy*
 
So, how is everyone's Tuesday? I've a headache, and am generally just feeling out of it. So, I'll just drop this off here .



You know I hate it when you do this...taking videos of me while I rest after our post lunch romps. "Lunchtime for Lovers" is what we call it, though the way we devour each other, it should be called "Cumtastic Catastrophe". Your appetite is never ending, but who am I to talk when i just ripped your favorite skirt in my haste to get you naked. So, instead of taking that video of me alone, maybe you should join me? The tripod is right there in the corner of the room. I could really use those lips of yours on my cock, and those skillful hands on my balls, squeezing the way you like to. Your choice, really. Either you join me, or you get to record me masturbate...and I know how much you HATE wasted semen. So....?
 
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