He was tall and tupac music video unreleased tupac mp3
outlawz, gift set, assassin, bbs, actresses, sex, softcore, david sedaris, sexy, wikipedia, splash, jarhead(full screen), blogs, unreleased tupac mp3, advertisements, marketing, abuse, perfect name, literary salon, We were reaching speeds of 40, 50, 60 miles an hour, careening down that bone-straight road like a slot car, with a muffled tupac music video scream of "Stop!" from the back, but I just kept going, slippery and free and untouchable as a little ball of mercury. I could see our friends growing smaller and smaller in my rearview. They were jumping up and down and I thought I could hear them hooting and hollering at this crazy chick racing tupac music video madly tupac music video down the road with some guy she just met hanging from the back of her car. What was she doing? What did she want? Was he supposed to fall off? Get mangled? Die? Would she be hauled in for vehicular homicide? Murder in the second degree? Just full on murder with intent? As I finally slowed to a stop, Erik was pounding his fists on the top of my car and then he came around to my open window. "What the fuck are you doing? You could've killed me! You're out of your mind!" His face was red and he was panting and coughing and running his fingers through his really nice hair over and over.
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He was tall and lean and unreleased tupac mp3 ran like a jock but he wasn't a jock. And though it may be a very unreleased tupac mp3 unPC unreleased tupac mp3 thing to say, he had an ass like a black guy: that slightly protruding curve at the top, the delicate swoop out and around, full and firm and circular. He kissed in that strenuous, far-reaching, all-consuming kind of way, the kind of way that made you feel like if he couldn't keep kissing you forever and ever that he'd rip out his tongue and throw it on the ground and pound it flat with a shovel. Erik and I were a whirlwind from the getgo. It was early September at our crunchy college in the middle of Ohio and it was like already everybody was antsy. I can't honestly say how he ended up hanging off the back of my old station wagon, feet on the bumper, hands gripping something grippable on the back door, with me, wide-eyed and sweaty in the driver's seat, hands white-knuckling the wheel, my foot pressing down on the gas just a little harder by the second.
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