Several times a month, I will be in a store aisle reaching for something and feel a hand going up the inside of my thigh. When I turn around to find myself alone with a woman, and ask her if she would prefer me to hold still so she can get a better feel for the situation, oftentimes she will act "shocked" claiming nothing had happened, it must be somebody else...

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saint aini Deserved It

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Custom title:
Token Pussy Kat. Doktor of Fetishes, Polymath and Polyamour, Adder of sex to the violence and violence to the sex. Breather of Flammable Fluids For the Amusement of others and the Adrenaline of herself. Purveyor of Pineapple.
Personal text:
I am a bitch. How do you want me? Seriously.
In the land of WTF was I thinking
Date registered:
August 26, 2004, 10:08:33 PM
Local Time:
July 19, 2024, 05:56:44 PM
Last active:
April 02, 2010, 09:20:17 AM
Mary: Let me ask you something.
[Grabs his hand]
Mary: Why are you alive?
John Preston: [Breaks free] I'm alive... I live... to safeguard the continuity of this great society. To serve Libria.
Mary: It's circular. You exist to continue your existence. What's the point?
John Preston: What's the point of your existence?
Mary: To feel. 'Cause you've never done it, you can never know it. But it's as vital as breath. And without it, without love, without anger, without sorrow, breath is just a clock... ticking.