>>66128337I love the PEET. PEET da fruit of life.
Queen Coobarahanwak Martines Noreen Whoreton Gracie Spankbanek, the wife of Hoy Pastabelli, who smelled as bad as the men she fucked each night, waited for him, many nights after, leaving her window open wider than before. Believing that he could see her through her window, she undressed in front of it often, touched herself intimately often, and went to sleep without a nightgown or sheets to encumber him should he return to violate her again. But it'd been months and there was no sign from him. She gave up hope that he would ever come back.
A year had come and gone. Ciara renewed her lease even though she didn't really like her apartment very much, all in the hopes that he'd return to her. She ended up shutting her windows in the winter but didn't lock them, and took to wearing pajamas to bed again because of the chill. And no matter how patiently she waited for him, he hadn't returned. Eventually, Clara stopped expecting him.
Perhaps that was what the rapist was waiting for. For her to walk passed her window and not pause a moment to stare out longingly. Or perhaps he'd come to her on his own terms, finish in his own way, and torture her with anticipation.
Ciara had become a light sleeper over the past year, waiting up for him, hoping ever click, clack, or creak was him. Now she was certain. Certain that the window rumbled open and certain that she heard the swish of cloth climbing through the open space. The sound of his leather glove made her pussy wet but she didn't open her eyes.
She thought she could be dreaming. She'd dreamt this so many times before and woken up aching with need. If this were a dream, she wouldn't prove it by revealing herself. Ciara forced her body to relax and her breath to stay normal, just so she could feel him draw close.
