The look of animal confusion came into her eyes that he had seen on so many faces, so many women sensing the specter of climax creeping into their very being. ass porn Stooped over her garden, tending her blossoms like a doting schoolmarm, Princess Diana was the first of King’s forays that morning. He planted his hand beside her, exploring down with the other and pushing his thumb into the wet ball of clitoris. ‘Aaaaaaaagggghhh!’ he roared, and somewhere a dog started barking. The breeze slipped through his office window, perfumed with lavender that he imagined rested in dewy drops on soft necks and breasts in the village outside. Martin Luther King was ready for some hot action. But here, pinned beneath King on this gentle lawn, she was girlish and honey-sweet, as she had surely been in life. They, like all the other skin bags, were nothing more than self-important harvest grounds for worm food. King stood and stuffed himself back into his clothes. The shuffle of fabric.
