There, right above her shoulder, where her tresses start to flow down the curve of her small but delightful breasts. Her nipples strain against the clothe of her shirt. It’s taunting your senses. It’s the intention of the wielder. One of the bunnies wriggles it’s nose, and she shivers. “…buck is just disgusting, I mean where’s the love, people, where’s the…”
You don’t hear the door close. See it? Her hair is long and champagne blonde and it has that sorta ethereal glow, when it catches the light just the right way. The girl is still staring into the mirror. You turn, just in time, to see her leaning in. Your breaths, even if just for a couple of cycles, are shared in perfect unison. The girl is still staring into the mirror. The girl is still staring into the mirror. Where was I? That kinda FUCKING. The girl sitting next to you…in the bar-stool to your right… nooo, your other right.
