There she was. By my side. Mind fucking me again. She won't let me figure her out. Won't tell me her story. Won't tell me why she dated an insecure wanker. Won't tell me the colour of her underwear...but she did tell me her bra size +wink wink+.
We mind fuck one another as we listen to her tunes on her new phone. Rocking to the beat of the music, mentally grinding on eachother. We didn't say a word. There was no need to...we just LOLed on Mxit. I made her laugh, she made me think about her underwear. I came. She saw. We fucked (not literally).
We both live by the Scarface code of silence, yet I have an orgasmic urge to figure her out. Like a little boy discovering he can cum with the stroke of a hand...he wants to do it again!
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