. Only live once. Fuck Cujo,” I yelled back, and guzzled my Jack on the rocks to ablute my mouth of the taste and guilt.Piggy was sweating, staring,...his mouth agape, the pudgy punter practically mesmerized by the skimpy bikini dancer, a light-skin lovely with the big bulging Fan Bing Bing eyes of a green tea bitch.The vixen worked the pole on a birdcage-like podium opposite the bar, gyrating, thrusting her feminine geometry to the hum, bumps of the beat. Her lithe little body shaking in. Also, my blog was still a secret, even though I continued to write it.My readership slowly, but consistently, grew. It gave me a sort of sneaky/wicked pleasure out of still being the mysterious Debauched Diva. It was thrilling to invent ever new adventures to report as the Diva’s own. This vicarious living provided an outlet for my sexual fantasies that would almost surely go unfulfilled in my real life. It was a small, harmless price to pay for the happiness I found.This brings me to today,. None were wearing pants. Most were still wearing shirts. Except the fifth guy who was between the legs of the woman on the bed.Her toes were pointed at the ceiling fan, which was slowly turning over their head. She was emitting the loud moans that had brought me there in the first place. Occasionally she came up with an even louder, “Oh Yesss!”There was a running play-by-play going on among the two guys who were actually watching the action. The one said, “Look at that bitch fuck.” The other. Ryan’s eyes were closed in deep concentration, and I craned my neck up to kiss them. Instead of lubricating his thick cock, the water caused more friction, so it was hardly any time at all until his eyes shot open and he nodded. Almost there. I couldn’t suppress my smile. I wanted him to feel good. I wanted him. With a groan of pleasure and effort, he wrapped his arms around my curled-up form and stood up with his back against the wall and my legs around his ass. He thrust up into me hard and.
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