At the bus-stop she stood majestically, under the stars as the moonlight and traffic light fought for her attention. Eyes the color of emerald, able to freeze a man's heart and pause even giants strides. More powerful than Medusa's gaze, hers breathed life. You can't lie to those eyes, they speak louder than truth. Brown hair on brown skin, perfect blend of passion and lust, I can already imagine pulling those silk like strands singing down her back as I push harder into her, skin to skin, dancing to the rhythm and melody of her long brown braid sitting at the tip of her bottom. My eyes travel up and down her long narrow bare legs, spread wide as she takes a stance at Iife, daring all to come and conquer while I stare from the safety of my car. Hips, sweet, curvy and smooth like ancient pottery. I imagine my hands on the smoothness and softness of those well rounded depth, the size my hardness and bulge aspires to and can't reach yet. Sweet Jesus, she has ...
Serial Ranter