How To Get To Limeira Sao Paulo From The Airport?

Warning: This isn't for saints seeking redemption! It's a collection of Raw, Forbidden tales, ONLY for sinners, good girls begging to be defiled by Daddy’s hot strokes! ONLY read if you want the thrill of warmth slipping down your slit… You’ll clench those filthy thighs, squeeze against your wetness, and beg with a racing heart, but no, there’s no mercy. Because when you're done, you’ll be soaked up, and shaking from climax without being touched. Every story is dark, perverted, dipped in filth. They’ll mess with your mind till they break you, ruin you. Neglected girlfriends take the wildest revenge on their cheating ex with his favorite hockey stars. Milfs get pinned down and devoured by their hot stepsons. Sisters get ravaged by their brother’s besties while he sleeps down the hall. No safe words. No escape. Read at your own risk.

I managed to secure a VIP seat for my favorite idol's concert. Just as I followed the staff to my seat and was about to sit down, a woman walked up from behind and plopped herself right into my spot. "This view is the best. I'm taking this seat." I looked at her and felt speechless. "Miss, that's my seat. Please move!" To my surprise, she pulled out a stack of cash from her bag and tossed it at me. "If you're broke, don't try to act like a fan. I'm buying this spot from you. Take the money and get lost!" When I didn't move, she sneered, "I'm the secretary to Mark Lawrence, CEO of Lawrence Group. In Jericha City, everyone knows the Lawrence family. Don't push your luck!" Mark? Wasn't he the man my dad engaged me to? I immediately retrieved my phone and called him. "Your secretary is out here throwing her weight around. She stole my concert seat. You owe me an explanation for this!"

During a long holiday, my husband booked flights for a family vacation. On the way to the airport, I suddenly saw numbers appearing on everyone’s head. The numbers on my husband’s head indicated sixty years, but my parents and I had only six hours indicated on our heads. While I was puzzled over the meaning of those numbers, I noticed that the driver next to us only had six seconds indicated over his head through the car window. Five… Four… Three… Two… One. When the number turned zero, a massive truck immediately rammed into the car next to us. I saw flickers of fire, flesh and blood exploding before my eyes. People were screaming for help, but I could not hear anything. I trembled as cold sweat drenched my entire body. It was because my flight would be taking off in six hours.

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mist inquired. Carnation bit her bottom lip and looked down at the papers she was holding. "You can't back out once you sign the contract." She remained silent, so Mist spoke up again, "think about it twice." "It's still possible to quit," Mist suggested. She shook her head repeatedly. "No. . . I've made up my mind." "You're pretty desperate, aren't you?" "My family is in serious debt, and this is the only way I can pay it off." "You're so lovely. You don't belong here. But what options do I have? People like you are exactly what our business requires. Desperate women willing to cling to a knife's edge." Carnation placed the paper on the wooden table. She took a deep breath and quickly signed the contract before returning it to Mist. With a melancholy look, the woman accepted the contract and said, "you can no longer revoke what you have already signed. From today, you are now Mr. Lust's property." Carnation's heart was torn apart by the news. She traded her freedom and pride for the sake of money. When Carnation's father was admitted to the hospital after being diagnosed with lypmhoma. Their family's small business went bankrupt. Carnation had to drop out of college and work to support her family. In serious depth, she had no choice but to work in Casa de Lujuria, an exclusive nightclub owned by Luca Lindenhurst, a Seven Sins Association member.

I've been in a long-distance relationship with Xavier Harrington for four years. Every time we meet up with each other, the first thing he says to me is, "You've gotten fatter… and shorter." When my friend finds out about it, she jokes to me, "Maybe he has another girlfriend who's taller and thinner than you." It's supposed to be a joke, and yet I take it seriously. It explains why I've decided to travel a span of 1,800 miles just to seek Xavier out at the city he's stationed to. But that's when I accidentally stumble upon Xavier going on a stroll with a young woman side by side. I trail behind them, only to see them going to a cafe that's filled with people. There, they line up so that they can snap commemorative photos. However, whenever Xavier's hanging out with me, he often turns my suggestions down impatiently. To him, lining up at such places is a waste of time. Later on, Xavier and the woman secure a table in a restaurant. There, Xavier pulls out a chair for her before he starts setting out the cutlery for her. Even when the food is served, he will subconsciously push the woman's favorite dish in her direction. For the first time ever in our relationship of eight years, I find out that Xavier can be caring when he feels like it. I watch as Xavier chats animatedly with the woman at the table. He shares everything with her, be it the irritating experiences at work or the funny and interesting incidents that have happened to him so far. Then, I lower my head to look at the short text messages Xavier has sent to me in the past. "Time for work. It's lunch time. I'm about to nap." Suddenly, I find my relationship with Xavier extremely boring, so I dig out the invitation sent by my company regarding their outstation request and tap on it. After all, I no longer want anything to do with this flawed relationship anymore.