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But only a few mustn’t rush the invasion. Iris put her arm around his waist, he placed his hand on her shoulder. He hurt. Controlling himself, as best he could, they made out, feet from Iris’s front door. A yummy man-child to guzzle. His mind rushed, like a drug pulsed throughout his body and mind. Iris pushed him away, a glowering in her eyes. Leaning down, he parted his lips, so close, and pressed his to hers. Holding his hand to her, she grasped his hand, rising from the seat. The second wave of ejaculate thickened the stain, a third, fourth soaked through the material. A fire passion swept over him; he fought to control himself as burned inside his chest, his intellect, his loins. His body weakened, he slumped, his face reddened.
