This time I thrust with him."Ohhh, that's the way to do it. You KNOW he's going to love it...now show me what you got." He stared at my pelvis. "Lift ...hat skirt and show me what you got!" He smiled and began a slow up and down thrust in time with the music. With the girls urging me on, I caught the rhythm and began to slowly lift my skirt. I couldn't believe I was even thinking about flashing him. I had worn very tiny bikini panties and, if I lifted my skirt much higher, he would be able to see. Common as muck. Infiltrating your way into sentence after sentence yet adding nothing. The uninteresting half of a semi-colon. An apostrophe that's lost its va-va-voom and fallen flatter than the souffle I attempted on 'The Bake Off' pre-heats. Quite why her gothic nerd-ness ever thought to stuff you into her halitosis snatchy snatch I'll never understand. A question mark I'd understand. That yummy hook. Dragging and scraping on her scurvy inner flesh. Caressing at that unmapped and. More

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