He was the only man I would let touch me that way. And I thought I might be crazy, that a part of me wanted to feel so weak beneath him. That I wanted...nothing more than to submit to him. He talked to me so gentle, yet he wanted nothing more than to hear me whimper and gasp every time his hands wrapped around my throat. And he leaned into my ear and whispered, “do you want me to leave a mark?” And I did, more than anything. I wanted him to leave his hand prints on my neck and on my chest. I. They're nearly as bad as the men I know, so set in their ways and scared of upsetting the neighbours. You have no idea what it's like out there, if anyone thinks you're doing anything even the slightest bit risqué the gossips will rip you to shreds." You don't have to play in your own backyard," I said, shaking my head. "Weren't you the one that told me that you'd enjoyed running up and down that hotel corridor when you went to L.A...Kirsty frowned and I added, "Topless," for her benefit.Kirsty. It had been so long since someone had moved in to the place. I forgot about the old neighbors. I do remember there daughter. She was the same age as me. She had some of the same classes as me. She was not like the other girls in high school. She was the exact opposite. She was more curvier than all the girls at school. She had a big chest and a nice big ass. She was not into cheer leading and going to parties. She was a real book worm. I only saw her out of school once or twice. I never had the. Bob Gibson, the old Cardinals' ace, was so intimidating, and so god-awful fast, that he might have been a success in the major leagues with nothing except a fastball -- combined with his opponents' abject fear that he might come in tight and hit them with it. Farther back in baseball history, Cleveland's great Bob Feller had been similarly gifted.But we'll never know for sure, because these men both had become complete pitchers, with a rich variety of out-pitches.Anyway, nothing could be more.
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