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She moaned continually, now clasping the sides of the horse's head with both hands. She tightened her grip, mashing his big powerful head even harder against her wet cunt. At the same time, she fucked her pussy up to his mouth just as hard as was possible."Make me come again, Midnight!" she whimpered. "Tongue-fuck me haaaard!"Midnight began to lick and tongue-fuck her cunt even harder than before. He rammed the full length of his horsey tongue in and out of her tight cunthole. Micki groaned with excitement as she felt the tip of the animal's tongue bouncing off the back wall of her pussy.The aroused stallion licked the walls of the teenager's cunt as fast and hard as he could. Her fuck-juices were flowing out steadily. The black beast sucked most of the tasty liquid into his mouth.The horse fucked the entire length of his tongue into the little girl's pussy, tongue-fucking her relentlessly. Her hips were jerking brutally and she was crying out with pleasure in a deep, throaty moan.. As they danced, Jill could feel Bob's penis growing against her stomach. He swiveled his hips slightly, rubbing his member against her and moved his hand to her bottom.Jill closed her eyes and moaned as Bob kneaded her butt cheek. She pressed her breasts into his chest and moved against his erection. The drinks, the music and the heat of Bob's body against hers caused Jill to feel a little lightheaded. This was the first time she'd had feelings like that since she started dating Kyle. Jill could feel her nipples swelling and rub the lining of her top.When the song ended, Jill and Bob remained in each other's arms. They waited for the next song to start and began to move the moment it did. Jill glanced at Kyle and saw he was holding Amber's bottom with both hands as he danced with her. Mid way through the song, Bob moved his mouth close to Jill's ear and whispered to her."It's time for shots; want to help me get the tequila and limes?" Bob asked.Jill nodded and they separated. Jill.
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A promise. Underneath it was something else. Inside of another zip-lock bag was a painting that was the size of a postcard. It was the rendering of a house, brilliantly done in the impressionist style. So brilliantly done, I wondered if this was a professional artist--perhaps one I'd seen before. With a closer look, I realized that this was a house I knew; just catty-corner to my apartment building. It had been painted with the suggestion of the first light of the morning. I glanced up and looked over. There was movement in a second floor window. Just a flash behind the glass and nothing more. I took the flowers back up to my apartment and put them in water. Then, I looked through my bedroom window at the building in the painting. It was an old structure, like so many in this area. I had looked at it a hundred times with an artist's eye: the gray and brown stone, the small windows with wavy glass, and the high privacy fence around the back yard. I had never seen anyone come or go.

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