I turned around, saw the dude looking at me, and gave him the big, unmistakable
Yet, he persisted, mumbled, almost incoherently–even sheepishly– “I wanna lick your pussy. . . “
I held The Finger until I entered the store. Feeling relief, I carried forth on my mission, and obtained the necessary baking implement.
Upon payment, I wondered if said jerk-off reamined outside. He had, apparently, taken his spring rolls and split, but not without an extra-awesome serving of my finger.
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