I don't know the exact psychology behind it. All I know is that she was afox. Not in a classical, healthy and athletic way, but in a very . . . trashy...ay. I was a senior in high school, and I was listening to a lot of SonicYouth, and I was all into John Waters and MaximumRocknRoll, so I dug thetrashy vibe. I figured her style was something conscious, intentional, like ahigh-concept po-mo social commentary thing. I've always been too willing toassign noble intent to people.She would wear things. The boss told me to stay here to keep her comfortable and tell her its wonderful for her to be so nice to them and how much it would mean to my career. The poured her more drinks and her eyes were getting glazed. He had her breasts out massaging her pink long nipples.His mouth going down to each one over and over. The other had his long almost black penis out and she was rubbing it. He was pulling her dress up his hand covering her exposed blonde haired pussy. His knees gave way and his face. "It's okay. I wanted to." "Thank you so much," she grins back, her eyes alight. "If there's anything else let me know." "Oh, I will." She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, and my dick aches to be inside that mouth. I turn my back on her, and amble back to the ladder, adjusting my pants on the way. I've put two more boxes away when another soft cough interrupts my daydreams of fucking a tiny young blonde on the checkout counter. She looks up at me, holding a still empty basket. "Would it. I notice a few women looking at us, and I read them casually. A couple of them are disgusted at us. It's such a shame that people can't let us love who we love. I shoot a "Fuck you, too!" thought into their heads, while smiling pleasantly at them. I chuckle at their shock when they feel that.Others smile and admire us, and I project warm glows back to them as I return their smiles. Lydia stops walking and whispers to me, "Look over there, behind the shrub." I turn my head and see a topless.
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