I am, and Kat mother fucking remix percival
older asian women are some of the best sex partners , percival, seating, italian mafia, play the guitar like a mother fucking, confession, sexy hot mature , dining, mother fucking do double g , put it in my mouth my mother fucking mouth lyrics , ogged, mature teen porn , wikipedia, mature women nude galleries , west suburbs, craigs list, Sing the first few words. Kat tells me to cut it out, that it's rude to be having coffee with one woman and stare at another, which makes me forget for a moment that she's criticising me. "What are you singing?" "Little things can make you drift in the springtime. I'm singing a memory. My whole life has this maniacal soundtrack. It's stupid mother fucking remix sometimes. Stuff like disco got stuck in there back in the seventies. I still remember them playing 'She's a Brick House' at the Homecoming dance I went to stag. Bad time. mother fucking remix But that mother fucking remix girl on skates...damn...reminded me someone a long time ago made me feel like like I didn't care if the world detonated and left me floating in space surrounded by sand that used to be California. Give my fortune to feel that way again." "Fortune? You?" she asks, looking over the top of her sunglasses in a way that makes me really want to kiss her bad--(ly). So so bad. "When I get one," I say. Then, "Why are you sitting all the way over there?"
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I am, and Kat must be but I don't really wanna go there with her because I'm married and she's engaged and besides, percival that sort of thing is bad between friends who want to stay friends. Middle-aged guys walk by, unconsciously sucking in their guts as they blare percival mental images, days they used to catch frisbees, shirtless on tan sand beaches. A woman glides past on rollerblades, her long auburn percival hair trailing in the slipstream, bikini top over jeans shorts, the world whispering past in her black plastic sunglasses. She slides through the lacey shade cast by the eucalyptus trees and I follow her with my eyes, soaking up summer Ray Bradbury style, a kid with brand new sneakers that speak the freedom of running on marshmallows. Reminds me of a time on spring break. Fort Lauderdale. Must have been something like 1979. What the hell was her name? Remember the song was, "Always and Forever."
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