The Smoke Ritual

The shirt rides high over my black cotton covered bum, showing just a flash of pale skin, before I drop my arms and with them the shirt. I repeat the process again, and yet again, as I empty the drainer. "Come fucking here, You," my boy growls, interrupting me in my work. I turn around, questioning, wondering what I have done. Looking over, I see you sitting there with your cock straining your jeans tight. A smile tugs at my lips; I know what it is that I have done and what you want from me.. He was up by the time i got out and had a smile on his face. During the day we unpacked the rest of his stuff and he would deliberately come behind me trying to help me. His real intentions were to feel me up. During the evening after we had set up the lounge, he was about to leave to go get something to eat for the both of us. At the door he asked me not to watch his dvd collection and winked at me. And you guessed it right, like every other curious guy i did actually went through his dvd. ‘Julia? You in?’ She had agreed. From then on all she had was flashes of memory: sitting on the floor when no chairs were available, trying to find a radio so she could dance, leaning her forehead against the cool window pane and thanking it for feeling so nice. Everything after that was completely blank. Her reminiscing didn’t get her any closer to figuring out where she had woken up. She assumed someone from the office had taken her home with them, and she had the sinking suspicion it wasn’t. Perhaps this was already going to be the test of their love for each other. More: for their tolerance of each other. There was no turning back... no Daddy to cry for help this time... only the handsome young boy whom she loved so much... and together they would work it out. Yes! They would, by God; she felt confident of it, but she must do her part too... and at that moment, her end was the cleaning and straightening up of the house.She would think no more of her gloomy disposition, she.
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