Maybe it’s a middle-aged man who works down in the sewers fixing pipes and wading through… well… you know. These people have a lot to complain a...bout and you think to yourself, “wow, their life must really suck”.So why are they always so damn happy? Never without a grin, always giving an enthusiastic wave and a “how do ya do” no matter what time of the day and no matter what day of the week. Life consistently gives them the shaft and yet they carry on like every day is the best damn day of their. Her waist line was about 26 inches, her chest 39 (when she wore a bra it was 40D) and her ass actually seemed to rotate when she walked and measured 38 inches or so depending on where you put the tape. She was a rapidly maturing wet dream of barely seventeen with a pug nose, blues eyes and a curly mop of short, blonde curls. And she just loved to fuck, her first college discovery."Nineteen," she thought to herself with a smile. "I've fucked 19 different boys and men this week. That must be a. I want to be your whore!’ Just as he was about to compile, his dick began to spurt thick white glob of warm cream onto my outstretched tongue. I held my tongue still as he painted it and my face with spurt after spurt of what looked like hot paste. What I didn’t catch right in the mouth, I scooped up with my fingers and licked them off, with loud smacking noises and moans of pleasure. Then he ordered ‘lick my juicy old cock clean, my whore slut’, which I did with pleasure, all the time. There was room for another car, and there was Paul, waving her in. She wondered for a moment whether he normally parked in the center of the garage and slept in the center of the bed. She smiled at the thought. Not today. She could hardly wait to shut off the car. He opened her door and kissed her when she stood. They were both hungry, kissing voraciously. Joan felt Paul’s erection pressing against her. His hand was on her ass, feeling her curves through the flimsy fabric, holding her against.