As the song changed to a Latino themed song. Dante started in real close, pressing my pelvis into his hip. his left hand pressed firmly between my shoulder blades and his right hand held my hand gently. My body hummed as Dante's hip pressed further into my pelvis, dipping my top half to the right. I leaned my head back, rolling it in the direction of my body as Dante pulled me back up. My head found itself onto his shoulder and my leg slid up his to his hip. His warm hand went just below my ass, leaning down to kiss the tip of my nose as he dragged me across the floor. Guiding me through the steps and using my instincts, sweat dripping down our bodies. As the last four beats came I grabbed Dante's hips and rolled my hips out so my ass was towards the crowd. Once back against him, he spun me around putting a hand on my sternum and the other on my hip. He nestled his face into the crook of my neck. the hand that was on my sternum slid softly against my collar bone, to my shoulder, settling on my wrist. I slide that hand to the back of his neck and turned to look at his eyes. Gent...
Devil in the Grove is a non-fictional book written by Gilbert King. Kings takes an outside, as well as, unbiased perspective on Thurgood Marshall’s life and the story of the Groveland boys. King’s unbiased view caters to the story well, because it doesn’t cause him to bring much emotion from himself into the story, which can be problem from writers especially in a dispiriting story such as this one. The style of this work is uniform throughout. However, the selection of details jumps around a lot. Although they play a key part in developing the story it does take a couple chapters to actually get into the Groveland Boys. In the beginning, he writes a lot about Marshall and establishes his career well. One man called him the, “Founding Father
Positioning an aggressive but sensual kiss onto my lips. Now feeling weightless as our lips dance around and his tongue begins to manipulate my mouth. He carefully slid his hands off my face and grabbed both of my arms. While breaking the kiss he takes both of my arms and places them above my head and pins me against the wall of the elevator. He begins to push his hips into mine, slowly swaying back and forth. His perfectly plump bulge rubbing up against my sweet spot, becoming soaked in excitement he gazed straight into my eyes and in a deep, stern voice said, “who is Daddy’s little girl?” Without hesitation I responded, “I am Daddy.” He smirked then began dragging his tongue down my neck while still rubbing his erect manhood against me. I shudder with ever flick of his tongue against my neck, ever swipe of his hips against mine, the anticipation is overwhelming as I cry out, “god, please Daddy, fuck me already.” Instantly, he stopped, in a harsh voice he said, “That is a very bad girl. You don’t demand Daddy around. Daddy tells you what to do. For that I need to teach you a lesson, don’t want my baby girl thinking she can be disobedient like that.” He took a step back and unbuckled his jeans, allowing his pants to fall to the floor I am taken back by his huge cock. Mesmerized by how large his prick is, Lefty demands, “get on your
He ran his soft hands over my lower back and moved them down to caress my legs, this sending movement through my upper calves. Being so close to him was ticklish, yet pleasurable… Evolving me to wince at every touch. The pleasurable side almost always overcomes the tingling ticklish side of being in the arms of someone I cared about so much. Just the thought of him- the way his smile lit up his whole face, and how he only smiled that way around me. We spent a lot of time squandering about, but every moment afterwards left you wanting more. When I wasn’t with him, my mind traveled to him. The thought of being surprised that his feelings were mutual had always stuck out. All of his charisma, and quirkiness piled together to make him. Being himself,
Spring break week had come; all the guys had decided to go out and have a crazy night down on the strip. We went from bar to bar, having a good old time just like back in the day. MMM had found this incredibly gorgeous girl at one of the bars. By this time, we were quite intoxicated, and apparently so was this girl. Marco stumbled up to me, and said “I’m going to nail this chick, I’ll see you guys later!” and off they went. As usual, nobody thought anything of it, and we continued on with our night.
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Her full heart-shaped lips with their natural light rose color beckon him to take and explore the depths of her luscious mouth. He brushed his lips against her all too tempting mouth. As a small sigh escaped her lips, his tongue slid inside to savor her sweet, spicy nectar. With a wanton nature, she nipped his playful probing tongue. This slip of a female was without guile, she made her needs be known to him without a word. With his Selkie, heighten senses, which enable him to hear her heart race from the pleasure of their kiss. Even as jaded as he was, he experienced a quickening of his own heartbeat. After such a kiss he had to have more, this made him question just who was the predator and who the prey in this
I was wrapped in my blanket like a Butterfly in its cocoon. As soon as I began to have conscious thought of my crush, dancing, and my dreams turning into a reality my eyes opened as if I was facing Bruce Lee himself. Then I jumped out of my bed if I was running with gazelles in sub Saharan Africa. I smoothly landed into a crouched position on the ground I got straight into my dance battle stance with a stare determined like Eminem. I knew today would be a good day with the sun shining on me through my white curtains. As I noticed the dust from my desk float in front of me I copied its abrupt and jerky movements into the bathroom. I walked on my bathroom carpet like Tupac in a music video and fixing myself to look fresher than some new vans. My sister being her usual caveat smashed on the door shouting at me for taking a while.She is older than the hills. Rushing out and karate jump kick through my door wearing my towel I looked to the clock. “7:30” I said with a Arcane voice and took my plain white t shirt, fake faded lacoste jacket, and some khaki jeans. I looked in the mirror real quick licked my lips, made a quick rap, and did a quick bboy set. I began walking to school. I was hungry that time, I can eat a horse.
Each of these novels took placed in Los Angeles in different eras. “The Big Sleep” by Raymond Chandler took place in the 1930’s where The Great Depression was a prominent long lasting downturn in history, where workers were unemployed. The novel “Murder Is My Business” by Lynette Prucha took placed in the 1990’s which was considered the best era for economic growth. While the novel “Devil in a Blue Dress” by Walter Mosley is set in post-World War II, before the Civil Rights Movement. These three private detectives face a ton of difficulties upholding their morals, ethics, and beliefs while trying to best serve their clients, and doing everything in their power to perform their job in exchange for money.
You tossed your head back with your eyelids shut in anticipated bliss, lips parting as a needy whine came from your throat, buzzing with light pain. Stefano responded to your whine with a low growl, fumbling faster with his belt in an attempt to speed things up. You knew you wanted him because he’s always wanted you, and now, he could have you; (-- removed HTML --) all (-- removed HTML --) of
When his gaze met Jorge's, he saw a look of complete trust laced with deep, sexual longing shining from the soft, brown eyes, and his heart skipped a beat. He started slow, and as his hands caressed the young Latino's broad chest, he found himself falling into a powerful, hypnotic state. Time stood still; the sensation of Jorge’s smooth, flawless flesh beneath his fingers the only thought occupying his mind, and when his thumb grazed the raised nub of his lover’s nipple, he took an almost hedonistic delight in the gasp of pleasure that resonated around the
Ow. My head hurts. It has been lying against this wall for at least an hour now. I scratched the back of my head to move around my dark, curly hair. It was beginning to feel plastered against my scalp. It was a bit tangled from not brushing it for a day and my fingers did not run through it with ease; nevertheless, it felt good to keep the blood flowing. I was lying on a thin, light blue mat on the floor. My head was propped up against the cold wall as if it were a concrete pillow. My chin dug into my chest and I could feel the soft, warm material from my sleeveless sweater cushioning my jaw. I looked down. I could see the ends of my hair cascading over my shoulders. The red highlights matched quite nicely with my maroon sweater. My arms were folded over my belly and they appeared more pale than usual. My knees were bent, shooting upward like two cliffs. My baggy blue jeans covered the backs of my fake brown leather shoes. ("Christy, let me borrow your pants, the baggy ones with the big pockets. I can hide more stuff in those.")
The man wore a salmon color pants and a ironed black shirt. The three dancers sat on the chairs with their backs arched back with a soft smile on their faces, the vocalist sat with his mic pointing in front of him mouth, and the guitarist sat straight with his beautiful, shiny guitar resting on his one leg. All the dancer came on the centre of the stage one after another to perform their unique dances. One dancer stood out to me more than the other. Her name was Tatia. The room got quite. The guitarist played a soft beat music. The tempo of the music was slow. Together with the music, the dancer steps forwards in a sustain movement of her leg. As she walked, she slowly raised her both hands while snapping. Randomly, we can hear the vocalist syncopating with a slowly rising voice of his lyric. At the end, he screams at the top of his lungs. The vocalist and the other two dancers clapped and stump the ground loudly following the slow tempo. Everyone is in a slow rhythm syncopating the dancer’s move. The dancer taps the floor in a slow tempo while spinning her body, making shapes with her hands in a sustain motion. Suddenly the whole tempo changes with the guitarist changing
As I lay on the brown corduroy sofa from the 8o’s I look up at the ceiling, listening to Tyler practice the guitar in his bedroom down the hall. A deep sigh escapes my mouth and I roll off the couch, cringing as I hit the floor. “Why the fuck did I do that?” I groan quietly as I lay on the ground, the rough carpet pressing into my skin.
It was a beautiful night. It was perfect for a walk. As I strolled further into the park a figure approached me. It was as dark as pitch so I couldn’t make out who it was. It was late; you wouldn’t usually see anyone at this time. My heart was beating faster and faster. The strange thing was I wasn’t frightened; it was just my heart beating rapidly. As the masculine figure approached, I began to walk slower. That was when I heard the voice.
“Words died away, the listening air was very still, the black night waited. In the straining darkness. I felt his body moving with desire, his hands on me were trembling, and I felt my sense opening like a flower to his urgency. I closed my eyes and waited, waited in the darkness while my being filled with a wild, ecstatic fluttering, waited for him to come to