It’s been so long, and here we are again. Every fucking time. Ignoring the angry popping of hot oil, we fuck – locked together and writhing breathlessly on the kitchen floor, gasping for air all the while. This second, we’re together.
It’s easy to remember us when we do this, and that feels good. Smoke is filling the air, now. We ignore it. Fingers and tongues urgently dart over swollen clits and slip into wet pussies. Next week, we’ll be moving in.
We are approaching our limit. Our fingers slam into each other at unbelievable, unbearable speed. This passion is undeniable. Next month, we’ll be moving on.
Dinner is burning…
