Pictures Stories Novels & Stories

Shaking my head, I held out my hand for Grace and helped her get up. “Thank you,” I nodded. “I’m sorry but I can’t come. And if you want to fuck, you can choose from my friends to have their cocks fill in your cunt. I don’t fuck twice.” Then I walked away to go to my car. I massaged my forehead then stalked Erica again. I noticed that all of her pictures characterized her as a prim and proper lady, her clothes were perfectly fit on her body, it was so good, alluring, and addicting but not to the point that you will lust over her.

its a missing puzzle piece waiting to be found and when you do find it you can finally figure out the picture life has to show you. END!

Or at least all that my brain could perceive. Rebecca’s house was rather intimate. She didn't have any pictures up of her family, but she had all kinds of African art on her walls. She liked art as well. That's another thing we have in common. Well, I liked drawing but you get what I mean. The pieces on her wall were put together such as to tell a story. A sad and lonely story. I then looked around and noticed that she had no family photo’s up. Women love having pictures of their family all over, so why didn’t she have any up?

But, René was a painter who had characteristics; he only painted objects he was seeing or had ever seen in the past. Sometimes, he painted some moments that happened in the past. For example, the moment when he and his sister were still young. They used to fight a lot. Yes, fighting. They did not hesitate to kick and punch each other, even wrestled each other like professionals. Once, René painted a picture when he and his older sister were in a brutal fight. René had also painted heart-wrenching scenes. Tears, blood, and sorrow. These three elements filled the previously blank canvas where the painter poured his inspiration. It was so heartbreaking that the painting was able to make people