It all began with one sexy text message.
I received it while I was serving at a crappy corporate restaurant in the middle of a off. It was from my boyfriend at the time and it was about how he missed me and desperately wanted to smooch my everything. I responded with equally jilling words and he responded to my tantalizing words with even more tantalizing words. That is the solution.
I could not deny the urges of my super soaker underpants, flushed cheeks, and dirty, dirty cranium. But I was also lacking a quick fix to this major dilemma! Until… I was taking a long pee on the private toilet at my work… and I looked down at my visible… parts… and I was like… well… hmm… this is… interesting. Yes, I paused in my thought as many times as there are ellipses in that sentence.
I then returned to selling wings to dudes who called me honey and who had no idea that I had a sexual revolution only moments before taking their 2lb honey garlic orders. A few weeks later, I did it again and I surprised myself by how casually I went about it.
Before I work it, I was jilling off all the time. It was as ritual as emptying my bladder. For example, I truly, madly, deeply despised my serving gig and massaging my clit brought me muchos bree daniels i know that girl.
Not logicallyAndy’s magical masturbation experience
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