18 And Life Lyrics

My neighbor's son, Leo Parker, is a Peeping Tom. I purposefully call out his name while he's peeping on me pleasuring myself. Truthfully speaking, I've already predicted that Leo will corner me in his room during one of my tutoring sessions the moment he does so. But what I don't expect is that his older brother, Max Parker, suddenly barges into the room…

Everyone said I was Domenico Calvetti's most obedient woman. On our first wedding anniversary, he flirted with a pair of twins at the gambling table. He had lipstick smeared all over his shirt. I smiled and wiped it away with a silk handkerchief, but he swatted my hand aside. "Don't kill the mood." In the third year, the star performer from the club he ran showed up at my door with a gun pressed to my temple, demanding to take my place. Without flinching, I disarmed her using the technique he taught me and disposed of the body myself. Behind me, he held his new lover and laughed softly. "Lucia, you always know what to do." In the fifth year, he blew up the library my father left behind just to make his new flame, Marilena Rossetti, smile. That library was my mother's favorite spot when she was alive, and it held the only photographs of our family of three. The explosion made me the laughingstock of the city. People whispered, "Signora Calvetti can't even protect her own memories." Everyone believed I could never leave the Calvetti family or Domenico, but they forgot how this all started. Back then, he rescued me from my adoptive father and fell in love with me at first sight. He knelt and begged to marry me, swearing he would protect me from blood and pain for the rest of my life. For ten years, I held onto those empty words. At our tenth anniversary party, his hundredth mistress arrived. Alice Russo, fresh out of college, held a glass of red wine and poured it down my gown while Domenico watched. "Signora Calvetti, this dress is so old. Given your position, you should be wearing something better." Everyone at the party waited to see my humiliation. Instead, I lowered my eyes and dialed Domenico's father's number. "Father, the ten-year agreement is over. I won't be Signora Calvetti anymore."

When I was seven years old, my younger brother went into anaphylactic shock after sneaking a handful of peanuts. Outside the emergency room, my mother slammed my head against the wall over and over, her face twisted with rage. "If you had been watching him like you were supposed to be, this never would have happened! You should be the one with a ruptured stomach, not him!" After that, whenever my brother so much as caught a cold, my mother forced me to eat spoiled leftovers as punishment. I once prepared an elaborate feast. She flipped the entire table and made me crawl on the floor to lick it clean. When I said I wanted to study culinary arts, she poured hot oil over my hands. My father wanted to send me to vocational school to learn a trade, but my mother clutched my brother to her chest and wailed. "She destroyed her brother's health! She owes him a lifetime of service!" When I was fifteen, my brother's gluttony cost my father an important business deal. I took the blame without even being asked, and the furious client forced me to drink more than half a gallon of hard liquor. By the time I was sent home with a bleeding stomach, my father had already scolded my brother. My mother took out her anger on me instead, slapping me so hard my ears rang and my vision went dark at the edges. "You useless thing! You should’ve choked to death at that table! I get sick just looking at you!" I coughed up black blood. From my pocket, I pulled out a piece of sour candy that had gone soft and sticky. It was the only treat my mother had ever given me with a smile, back before my brother's allergic reaction. I put the candy in my mouth and swallowed it down with the taste of stomach acid. The candy was so sour it made my throat burn. Whatever came next, I just hoped I would not have to be my family’s garbage disposal again.

On Christmas, I canceled a delivery appointment for the daughter of New Hork’s richest man. Instead, I flew overnight to deliver the baby of my brother, the Mafia boss, and his fiancée. The moment I stepped into the delivery room, she was already writhing in pain. Yet she suddenly grabbed my hand and demanded to know if I was a virgin. Seeing that she was already three centimeters dilated, I assumed the pain had muddled her mind. So I casually replied that I hadn’t been one for a long time. That was when she completely lost it, kicking me hard in the stomach as she screamed, “Get out! A shameless woman like you isn’t worthy of touching my son?! “Switch to a virgin doctor right now! Don’t pass your filth onto my child! Disgusting! “And take away all those imported supplements you brought! Even dogs wouldn’t eat them!” I stared at her as she rolled around on the bed and fell into deep thought. I genuinely couldn’t understand how a woman who got pregnant before marriage and was still living off my brother got the confidence to look down on someone else for not being a virgin? Calmly, I removed my gloves and called my brother right in front of her. “Your fiancée says I’m dirty, so I won’t be delivering this baby. Let her give birth on her own. “Oh, and I’ve canceled the top-tier delivery suite I reserved for you, too. After all, I wouldn’t want them to offend her eyes.”

I used an anonymous account to send a video chat invitation to my crush, a senior who had always been aloof and reserved, but he agreed. Throughout the video chat, I had on a black mask, and I modified my voice to conceal my identity. At my command, he took off his clothes one by one, revealing his solid abs. While I was admiring his toned body, he smiled devilishly and said, "It's your turn now..."

"Mmm… No… You can't touch this part…" In the car dealership, my client drives around in his new car with his right hand resting on my thick and supple thigh. Slowly, he begins hiking my miniskirt upward. I'm a beautiful saleswoman working in the shop. Now I'm wearing a pair of crotchless black stockings and a short pencil skirt. The catch is, I'm going commando beneath my skirt. Truthfully speaking, I'm already flooding down there thanks to the client's touch…

After waking up one day to discover I was coughing up flowers, everyone started giving me strange looks. It continued until my sworn enemy cornered me against a wall. His expression darkened as he chuckled softly and asked, "Oh, baby, have you been going out like this every day? Why don't you try mine instead?"

"Ah... go easy, my husband is calling." My cheeks flushed bright red as I grabbed the phone and accepted the video call. On the other end, my husband, Trevor Chambers, stared intently and began rattling off a list of instructions. He was completely unaware that just out of view, a young man's head was busy nuzzling between my thighs.

"Stop… please stop… There are too many of you. You'll break me." On the bus back to the village, three rugged men from my hometown spread my legs apart and tore a hole right through the middle of my stockings. Steve Axwell, who lived opposite, said lecherously. "Kendall, I've watched you grow up. Let me check if you've started growing hair down there yet." Under the gaze of those big, strong men, I felt a mix of ache and itch. I couldn't stop myself from getting wet. "You're this soaked, and you've never been with a man? Don't worry—today, we're going to satisfy you real good."

I get undressed and hide in my husband's dorm at work to surprise him. Yet it backfires on me—instead of my husband coming, his three colleagues are the ones who show up. They're thoroughly aroused by my lingerie and have their way with the cooking lady on the kitchen counter. It's such a raunchy scene that desire burns within me. I pleasure myself while watching them but accidentally moan out loud. The men turn to look at the closet where I'm hiding…