I run my lips and tongue down your chest and stomach, biting you, making you hurt, then kissing it better. I undo your belt and trousers and you kick ...verything onto the floor. You're naked and vulnerable and you love it. I gently run my nails up and down your thighs, while people walk up and down the street outside, it's too dark for them to see in but it's still a turn on to think they maybe could. My tongue is still trailing over your torso, getting closer to your cock, but every time you. It seemed like ages ago that I was Dana the 32 year old armed robber, all alone in the world, filled with rage and anger, sometimes even just picking a fight and beating up a random guy for the fun of it. Just as a release valve for all that pinned up aggression. But that appeared to be another life. It almost felt surreal, like those were the vague memories of a dream I once had. Yet I knew I still was that same 32 year old woman, because the pastel colored onesie showed two very clear. More

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