He was not wearing a shirt, so her hard nipples were grinding into his bare chest. After a long moment, when she could swear she felt something growin... hard against her leg. Jessie stepped back and moved around her father. Neither one had said a word. Jessie walked unsteadily back to her room and climbed back onto her bed. Now Jessie's mind was really spinning. Was that his cock that I had felt? Was he excited by my hugging him? All night Jessie dreamt of sleeping with her dad. They were both. She knew I was close. "You're going to fill my dirty panties with that big load aren't you?" I nodded. "Go ahead," she said, "I want to watch. Fill them up. Blow your load in my panties. Drop your nasty mess in my dirty, dirty panties. Go on you naughty boy, bust that big nut in my panties. Empty these big balls of all that hot cum. Make my panties all messy you dirty boy. Go!" Then with all her nasty talk rattling around in my head, I took one more giant sniff of the panties under my nose, and. Each syllable pumped a heartbeat. Each word sparked the brain creating thought. Every phrase became a confluence of sparks. Every sentence ordered the confluences. The page in which the body of the poem rested presented a field empty and open to anything. The body flowed on the field, not bound and stiff like a building, but malleable and moving. And as each breath has its own length, with inhalation being various distances between the lines, his pages rarely held a line to the left margin.. She was frustrated, jealous, maybe a bit disgusted—all which made me want even more to be left alone and to have the hostel room to myself for a night. They left me to float through an afternoon of such uncertainty, where I changed my mind a dozen times on whether I should pursue her or not, and whether my motives were moral or perverted. I imagined the moment of unveiling a rock hard cock springing out from her tiny, feminine figure, and my blood surged with desire. In the late afternoon I.
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