I couldn't utter my love when it counted
Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now
Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now
At the mature old age of 23, Koa would like to believe he's gained some wisdom and worldliness that Flora cannot yet comprehend. But then again, it's a well known fact that boy's brains develop later, and that men are not known for thinking with their upstairs head. Besides, this isn't a story of smart decisions and mature choices: this is the messy, marvelous, firework bright tale of two young kids in the spring of their youths, wondering if they've cracked the secret to love.
With her hand is in his pants and his below her dress it would take an act of Herculean effort to keep Koa from disobeying and spinning her around right there, from pulling up her dress and tearing off her assuredly tiny panties and bury himself inside the tight heat of her core. And while Koa may be working toward a Grecian demigod's physique, his mental fortitude has been neglected to a worrying degree.
Which is to say: yeah, he's gonna take that offer up.
His left hand tugs on Flora's shoulder, turning her toward the rail; his right makes quick work of the belt, bringing pants and boxers down off his hip. And then his left arm is around her waist and his hand is on her breast and he's guiding himself into her, marveling at how tight she is, how slick with desire for him. "Fuck, Flora," Koa moans, mouth pressed to her scapula. "You feel amazing around me."
Somewhere far below and away, the glotters titter their shock.
With her hand is in his pants and his below her dress it would take an act of Herculean effort to keep Koa from disobeying and spinning her around right there, from pulling up her dress and tearing off her assuredly tiny panties and bury himself inside the tight heat of her core. And while Koa may be working toward a Grecian demigod's physique, his mental fortitude has been neglected to a worrying degree.
Which is to say: yeah, he's gonna take that offer up.
His left hand tugs on Flora's shoulder, turning her toward the rail; his right makes quick work of the belt, bringing pants and boxers down off his hip. And then his left arm is around her waist and his hand is on her breast and he's guiding himself into her, marveling at how tight she is, how slick with desire for him. "Fuck, Flora," Koa moans, mouth pressed to her scapula. "You feel amazing around me."
Somewhere far below and away, the glotters titter their shock.
Koa
And I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted
Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now
Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now
totally sniped from odd ilu
