Aunty Fucking Hard Desi Mobile Shot

In on Friday; out on Sunday. Sitting on a bench on the midway, Steve could see the trash all around - candy wrappers, drink cups, a few religious brochures, and, looking directly down, a used condom. *Not Great America.* he thought. Tinny music came from the cracked speakers under the Tilt-A-Whirl across the way. Looking at the chipped and faded paint, marred here and there by rust spots, Steve, who fancied himself a poetic soul at times, likened it to a pathetic attempt at a song of seduction sung by a wrinkled whore, long past her prime. *A whore,* he thought dejectedly. *That's what I'll have to find.* He had tried all of his own lines on the girls here, and then the ones his friends swore always worked. He'd even tried Joey's "How YOU doin'?" that always worked on Friends. Nothing. Zero, zip, nada. He had thought that maybe the carnival atmosphere might make the girls more receptive to his charms, but that had not been the case. Like every other Saturday night since puberty,. ” I slowed our pace, not looking away from him, and him not looking away from me. My heart skipped a beat, and I'm pretty sure his did too, as we froze time, gazing at each other up and down. Reality. Yeah, back to that: I shook my thoughts and began walking again, still feverishly distracted by his presence. I stumbled and fell into him, not noticing the wall had ended, and tumbled onto the bed of grass beneath. I remember his face, darkly lit against the afternoon sunlight and the warm look sitting in his gold-green eyes before he brushed the hair off of my face and kissed me; And I kissed him back, warm and content, here behind the bustle of civilization. Our lips parted for a moment as I smiled up at him. My next exhale had the subtle musicality of a laugh. “Sorry for not helping you up right away and pinning you to the ground and stuff.” He joked. My next exhale was a laugh, but the one that followed was interrupted by another kiss. I leaned up into this kiss, the sweet warmth.
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