He's home. Not the streets. Griff Corrigan. Former biologist, a thousand times smarter than I’d ever be, addict or not. But he happened to sha...re my addiction, to my dismay when I was on the street next to him. Be cool. “This was my area.” My voice was level. “I let you have it.”“Girl who let me have it’s dead.”“Funny. I feel so… vibrant.” A light suddenly focused on my face, blinding me. A moment passed. “Ah. It is you. Well.” The light switched off, blinding me again, in a pitch. That’s because she is with some friends and if one of them were to see me wanking then it be more likely that a scene would happen, a staff member would be told, then the police may be involved.But if she were alone, then it would be quite likely that my cock would be on show and if she were to see my cock then, nothing, she would go back to eating her burger and I would finally cum over the floor. Part of the thrill I get from doing this is that she may see and she may get embarrassed. Plus. The public was beginningto think you didn't exist." Well Trish, "hiding away" suggests I have something to be ashamed of. Ican promise you, I don't. What I can-" -But this has been a long time coming."The bitch! She's supposed to be following the script! All of ourquestions were agreed upon before the interview, what the hell is sheplaying at? I look to Samantha, who gives me an "improvise" sign alongwith a pleading look."This election is about my husband, Trish, not me. I know certain. He pulled her back and forth with the music and into his cock and then his friends cock. She spread her legs apart, grinding her pussy against his cock, rubbing her pussy up and down on his rod. Dry-humping him on the dance floor. "Look at this. This girl DOES want my cock sliding in and out of her. Don'tcha?" Oh God yes."At this time her skirt had ridden up higher and higher that her panties were visible. The guy behind her grabbed the sides of her skirt and lifted it enough so he could see.