Once I noticed that a lady sitting side of me was enjoying her vibrating chair so much that I’m convinced that she was having an orgasm right there ...nd then. Maybe it was my curious mind, but I could not keep thinking of that day, and I frequently daydreamt of bringing myself to an orgasm just by the vibrations of the chair. I tried several times, and I did feel something, but never enough to get me over the pleasure cliff. A few weeks ago I was in Southern California, enjoying a pedicure by a. "I guess that's fair. So, let's do it." Huh? It took a minute for me to sort that one out. We had talked about it, but had been living together long enough now that we were legally a couple, anyway. Actual marriage had been put on the back burner. Maybe it was being moved back up front. "Are you asking me to marry you?" I giggled. "Aren't you supposed to get down on one knee?" "Not in my dress uniform," she smiled, the previous sadness replaced by happiness. "I just had it cleaned." "Alright,. To do anything she craved doing to me, and let me have it all. The cruel bitch just giggled and moved her teeth away from me. I could feel my face flush bright red in shame and frustration; I'd been bloody stupid again.That ticklish thing appeared again. It floated around my left breast, stroked me so sensually. I leaked on to the bed and begged for her to fuck me.The tickling thing moved and floated around my right breast. My nipples could drill through concrete and still, she tormented me. I. I realized just what had happened. And that it was not just a terrible, terrible dream. That night we ate in silence, and we watched as the president spoke. I laughed then, as one of my thoughts shone through from my inner anarchist. I watched the president speak, and the first one he mentioned was Saddam Hussein. I knew it. I felt, and still feel, that Hussein is also a bastard, and I felt that he had done it. I first suspected him. It was only weeks before that he shot down an American plane.
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