He sang along a bit, until mercifully the song ended. Okay well he was grinning, and so was Mo even. “So guys, you’re not drinking very much.” H...r face was awfully close. Like if he turned his head her way he might find he was making out with her.“Well I don’t drink a lot,” he explained. He’d had a Coors Lite with the meal already.“Muslims don’t drink,” said Mo. He’d said so at the restaurant and again here.“Some Muslims do,” argued Mia, “and I’m not saying drink a lot. Just have a lager like. ‘Um…uh….muffin?’ He raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a cocky grin, as if he knew what effect he was having on her. He looked like he was going to say something about her stuttering state, but surprised her instead. ‘Yes…a muffin. I’d say pistachio — right? Green like those beautiful eyes of yours.’ Then he winked at her. Those green eyes of hers nearly popped out of her head. It was almost as if he was flirting with her. She blushed an even deeper shade of red. ‘Yes. You are a good. "Here it is officer." She squealed bouncing back into her seat and twirling her hair.She expected me to go back to my car and run the information. I went to my car to remove my gun belt, then returned looking at her license and asked, "Say's here you just turned 20?" She was surprised. "Yes officer?" She said twirling her hair. I reached out opening the car door, " I need ten fingers on the hood." She had a worried look, she used the opportunity of getting out of the car to flirt even more. She. I trail my finger tips, right from behind Your balls, up and over, along Your cock to the tip. My fingers play with You for a moment, around the ridge, at that so sensitive spot at the base of the head and then back down. I repeat this several times and it's maddening. Not enough pressure, not enough speed, not enough anything. At long last I take Your balls in my hand, gently massaging and run the flat of my tongue from Your base all the way up, a quick flick of the tip of my tongue at the.
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