“Milk is for the pussy. Do you dare me to sit in it?” “Well, do you?” She stood backlit by the living room window with those cold kind of eyes. You could sit in hot tar for all I care, I thought, but couldn’t say it. Denim hugging thigh fat, fat pushed up by it, fat spilling out over the top of low rise jeans. Her gaze darted back and forth between my bald spot and the bowl of milk on the floor. I averted mine.
milk is for the pussy
milk is for the pussy
milk is for the pussy
“Milk is for the pussy. Do you dare me to sit in it?” “Well, do you?” She stood backlit by the living room window with those cold kind of eyes. You could sit in hot tar for all I care, I thought, but couldn’t say it. Denim hugging thigh fat, fat pushed up by it, fat spilling out over the top of low rise jeans. Her gaze darted back and forth between my bald spot and the bowl of milk on the floor. I averted mine.