Parker S. Huntington

Cages aren’t made of bars. They’re made of thoughts, expectations, and fear.

His massive erection dug into my thigh,

Your daughter is mine.

This time, however, the only happy thing here was Romeo’s erection bobbing beneath my butt.

Romeo seemed very fond of treating everyone around him like they had the depth of a Sims character.

“Aww. So territorial. Why don’t you piss on the carpet, just to mark your ground?”

“Unfortunately, coke smells like nothing. Can you believe it? That was five hundred bucks I’m never getting back. Hopefully, I’ll have more luck with crack.”

Romeo pinched my nipple, causing my knees to buckle.

The only thing I imagined was my cum in the Oreo cream’s place, dripping from between her succulent lips.

Poor Morgan might’ve had his heart, but his cock, it appeared, was community property.