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Friday, September 30, 2016

Bwanna Notes Dei Musicale

As I pressed her sturdy five foot ten Eastern European frame against the brick wall I made one more play . My hand slowly moved up the back of her skirt hoping for a satisfying grab of her perfectly toned behind while we were making out messily on the back exterior staircase of her apartment building. All Bwanna needed to do was shake her head no. I let her skirt fall and refocused on her sweet thin lips and the slightly glazed blue passion filled eyes peering through the slit sparkly eyelids. Her pleasingly pointed nose teased my pug ugly Irish bulbous schnoz as her tongue played a arpeggio in my mouth.

In the distance a car horn was honking.

But progress was being made here and just because Reno and Joy had apparently consummated swiftly while in my parked Bonneville; I was working more retrospect prey than our lovely bundle of Joy had been that or perhaps any evening.

“I am not like Joy.” Bwanna quietly rasped in her first generation Polish purr.

“Thank goodness” I puffed as my tongue found hers again for another riff up the fingerboard of passion. Her stature and mine put all pleasing pressure points in perfect harmony. Gravity drew our intimate body parts poignantly together until her Polish progenitor called out the back screen door harshly one last time.

“I’ve must go.” she said with a final flourish of her lips, tongue, boobs, and butt. She  slowly swished up the stairs leaving me with a peek of silky red pantie under her short plaid skirt. Red and grey were the colors of the tonight.I silently thanked her for keeping that Catholic school regalia and reflected with gratitude that it still almost fit her sophomore year of college body. Although it was much shorter than any nun would allow on her back in the day.
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