I took maybe five steps into the Dining Hall and waited for maybe one minute before I turned around and left. Midnight Snack was packed, a line snaking around the room and out the far door. There was no way I was going to get any food in the twenty-five minutes I had before my playdate with D3.
Instead of enjoying snack, I trekked up the grass in the dark.
When I arrived at the Dungeon, I pulled out my notebook and jotted notes on my day. D3 also arrived early. He too had seen the line, thought Fuck that, and opted to come straight to our date.
But I was still hungry.
"Hey, you want to go to Waffle House?"
D3 liked my idea. We walked to his car and headed off campus.
As we got out of his car at the restaurant, I realized a small flaw in my plan: I was still wearing my Vixen outfit. My black wrap dress was street legal, covering all vital parts. But there was a lot of cleavage. And I still wore my fox tail. And my hair, care of Boymeat, was huge.
We ordered our meals. Ate them hungrily. Chatted about this and that. When D3 stepped away to use the restroom, I grabbed the bill and paid for his food. Upon his return, he cursed me for my cunning.
We headed back to his hotel room.
I unlaced my moccasin boots. Took off my Vixen apparrel. Stripped down to Minnesota naked, my boot socks still on. Got under the covers as D3 prepped for bed.
We chatted as he went about his nightly routine. I mentioned my fun with Boymeat. D3 mentioned the one time he happened to have stayed at Boymeat's home and cleaned his bathroom. Life is random like that.
Fully naked, D3 joined me in the bed.
We continued to chat with the lights off. Until we weren't talking anymore, but kissing. Writhing in his bed. His body against mine again. That familiar feel of his chest. His flesh. His lips.
I wanted his cock in my mouth. I shoved the sheets aside. Went down on him. Licked and sucked as I pleased. Heard his noises. Smiled at my ability to pleasure him.
Then he pulled my mouth back onto his lips. And pushed me onto my back. And his mouth was in my cunt.
I worried about his neighbors. Worried they might call in a noise complaint. But I didn't stop fucking his face. Didn't stop moaning into his pillows.
My hands gripped his bald head as his tongue worked on my clit. Obscenities spilled from my lips, as did his name. I came multiple times on his mouth, bucking and writhing my hips against him.
His lips returned to my mouth, kissed me again, before he passed out, his head resting on my chest, both of us sweaty and exhausted.
The Immigrant "Invasion" Is Just WMDs All Over Again
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There is no immigrant invasion at the southern border of the United States.
That needs to be said at the outset any time you wanna talk about What's
Wron...
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