I want a participation ribbon
La la la I wrotes this for venture_drabble.
Blood-soaked and nearly trembling from his own desire, Brock slammed Molotov into the wall. Her face turned from his as he furiously kissed her neck and then began to rip away her clothes.
He started from her breasts down, endearingly almost like a schoolboy. She allowed this and then smiled gently as she heard Brock's roar of disbelief and frustration as he reached between her legs.
"What the hell is this?" he yelled from below her hips.
"What did you expect?" She looked down and their eyes met.
"Not some ... " he swallowed. "Weird metal panties ... did you just get this installed for me or something?"
"Ah, Samson, you didn't think we'd go all the way this time, did you?"
"Well, yeah."
"You've really learned nothing." Catching him off-guard, completely naked except for her chastity belt and a pair of boots, she connected with his jaw.
He slammed her on the bed angrily, began to dress and stalked out of the room.
Nothing. If there was anything he would come to learn, it would be patience.
This was very nearly seventeen years ago.
Mol, with no connection to the drabble. Let us assume she is pissed at Brock! That's what makes it Deathmance wha-hey.
Blood-soaked and nearly trembling from his own desire, Brock slammed Molotov into the wall. Her face turned from his as he furiously kissed her neck and then began to rip away her clothes.
He started from her breasts down, endearingly almost like a schoolboy. She allowed this and then smiled gently as she heard Brock's roar of disbelief and frustration as he reached between her legs.
"What the hell is this?" he yelled from below her hips.
"What did you expect?" She looked down and their eyes met.
"Not some ... " he swallowed. "Weird metal panties ... did you just get this installed for me or something?"
"Ah, Samson, you didn't think we'd go all the way this time, did you?"
"Well, yeah."
"You've really learned nothing." Catching him off-guard, completely naked except for her chastity belt and a pair of boots, she connected with his jaw.
He slammed her on the bed angrily, began to dress and stalked out of the room.
Nothing. If there was anything he would come to learn, it would be patience.
This was very nearly seventeen years ago.
Mol, with no connection to the drabble. Let us assume she is pissed at Brock! That's what makes it Deathmance wha-hey.