Real Homemade Indian
"We used to go to the same school, Brian, and we were even in the same classes. But as you so rightly pointed out, you were a complete arsehole and an arrogant bully, then! You had your little gang who hung around with you and tried to be as big an arsehole as you were, but everyone else tried to avoid you if they could."Well, it must have been just before the summer holiday when you went to France. My younger brother, Neil, and me were walking home through the park after school, when we heard. She wore a very stern face for a few seconds (it seemed like hours), then her face seemed to kind of melt into a very broad smile."Then why don't you ask me, instead of telling him?" she asked in a mock stern voice.My heart was beating so hard it hurt. I couldn't breath, and my lungs burned like someone had forced gasoline down my throat, and lit a match. My face was scorching the skin off, my ears were roaring, and the out side of my ears were melting. I wanted to run, but she was standing in. Hug her? Kiss her? Tell her everything is going to be all right? That wasn't possible.Amy stared at the beer. Her cute young face was stained with tears, and she looked up at him, then back at the bottle. Her expression was enough to break his heart, and he had to remind himself what a nasty little bitch she really was in order to retain his composure.Finally, and to his great relief, she gripped the frosted bottle and placed its opening to her lips. He cracked open one for himself, too, while. When I was done with my bath I walked in front of the mirror and combed out my hair and then dried it, which took about forty five minutes to complete. Then I went to get dressed. I pulled out my matching red lace French cut panties and matching bra, denim mini skirt, and a white lacy blouse. Then I put my hair up in a French braid.With my morning ritual done, I turned on my computer dialed into my ISP and logged onto Fictionmania like I have been doing everyday since I first found the site..
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