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. well that I don't like. Tempting, but no. Better limit myself to the bastards that everyone would dislike. The kinds that would get killed in prison. She nodded to herself.She hadn't really thought about it that much, but maybe she was a bastard by that definition. Nah. Avenging angel maybe. No, that was too far in the other direction. Avenging bastard, that sounded right. She wasn't an abuser herself – not yet anyway.When the plane landed in Dallas, she pulled out her laptop right in the airport lounge and reentered the DNA search for her rapist. She couldn't believe it: 'Not Found.' Where had he gone? She wondered if he'd moved to better 'hunting' grounds. How could he? He needed a room where he wouldn't be bothered while he was raping. And money ... where did he get the money and time to pursue his vile hobby? How could she track him, now?She chewed on that finger again.Then Alex shut her laptop. She'd retrieve her luggage, find an apartment, and see the UFW registrar – it was. Instinctively I started to pull back, but then I found myself scooting forward in my seat to give her easier access. In no time her big toe had reached my crotch and was wiggling up and down and rubbing my wet, lust puffed pussy lips through the fabric of my lace thong. To any of the other patrons who cared to look our way, we were just a couple of ladies sipping fine wine, but even at the risk of sounding so cliché, there was so much more going on that met the eye. Gabrielle being the artful seductress shifted slightly forward and increased the pressure of her big toe on my crotch whilst holding me captive with her awe inspiring gaze. “By the way, you looked so hot in the video, what with all the moaning and yelping like a bitch in heat.”The way she said the word ‘bitch’, and the naughty glint in her eyes kindled the embers of my desire even as the up and down motion of her wiggling toe on my engorged clit reduced my eyes to narrow slits and left my body trembling as I climaxed in a.
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Petey didn’t seem to mind or even to notice.“Do you live nearby?” she asked breathlessly when I released her lips. “My name is Juliet—I assume the program is accurate and your name is Jim. Do you want to make love to me, Jim? I mean for real? You have already made me melt with your poetry. It’s as if I’ve already given myself to you.”I wanted to fuck her. If she wanted to phrase it as “making love,” I didn’t object. And, yes, of course, I did want to paint her. That obviously meant I wanted to fuck her as well. I wanted to fuck all of those I’d chosen to model for me, women and men alike. To want to paint them was to want to fuck them. To have painted them was to have fucked them. Jules would not be pleased that I was bringing another woman home to paint and fuck. But Jules had not been pleased many times before and yet he was still with me. Jules still posed for me; I still fucked Jules. And there was my art. Fucking went with my art.“I’ll take you home and fuck you if you let me.

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