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If these hips could talk they'd be speaking in tongues! It was Friday night and my shit was on. I'd ducked out of work early and swung by my apartment to jump out of that hot-ass uniform, then I hit High Street and got my hair did and my nails did and my feet did too!
I'm an addict. I'll lie, steal, and fight to feed my addiction. I am an addict and there ain't a Twelve Step program in the world that can ease my pain. I'll stay out all night long, fuck over my best friend, deceive my boss, whatever it takes to keep my jones fed and my sins secret, I'll do it.
FANCY AKA "FREAK NASTY"
This shit ain't normal, I told myself as my husband moved against me, moaning and thrusting to a steady rhythm. I felt his breath heavy on my neck, his tongue licking my earlobe, his hands cupping my hips as he held me firmly and rode me from behind. Despite myself, I sighed and pushed back against him, enjoying the pool of wetness he had created between my thighs. I hated that I loved him so much. Hated that I could allow him to treat me this way.