Hidden beauty Stories

“Sometimes I think you love that typewriter more than me,” she mused, bent over, caressing his shoulders. “I have a deadline, baby. Fuckin’ editor wants a piece about these poppies and I got nothing.” She swung around to straddle where he was sitting cross-legged. Scarlett-painted fingertips lifted her pale-yellow sundress. Her pussy, eye-level and glistening with arousal. She peered down to him and pinched her bottom lip...