Don't Care Where Its From, That Girl Has Got...

Some of them say it’s like music. Like beautiful music. The music of the spheres. The sound of the earth turning. The sound of the stars burning. Like they’ve been waiting for it, a missing piece. Something they lost once, but have found again.”“It’s like a choice,” Clay said. “Like one of those tests, the inkblot test, where you can see what you want.”“Sorta,” said Ashe.They listened together, bathed in sweat, bodies pressed close together. They heard the whoosh of the wind, the rush of the highway, the cries and howls of life in the desert. Thick adobe and plaster walls muffled the sound of the world outside.And they couldn’t stay in the room any longer, they had to be out amongst it all, the heat in the room suffocated them, the air poisoned them. A sheen of oily sweat painted their skin. The promise of the sound of the world outside called to them like a sea siren crooning from rocky shores.Clay shucked on his jeans and his tee shirt, Ashe wriggled into her sundress, neither of. Earlier that night, I had caught a glimpse of the outline in his chinos. It was nothing to sneeze at. I wondered if he knew how to use it.As I pumped harder on the bed, big ole titties bouncing, thighs shaking, my orgasm was building, approaching a crescendo as Tiffany wailed on the screen. She squirted onto her camera, but she didn't stop fingering that soaked quim, prepping for another good cum.I was getting closer to squirting all over the bed myself (I could change the sheets later), when I hear a strange sound come from somewhere in my closed bedroom.It was a jingling combined with a buzzing.I shut off my vibrator, paused the video, and looked around, scared that I wouldn't like what I found.It was nearby, too close for comfort.What was that noise?!Then I saw my phone blinking under a pile of receipts on my desk.Whoever it was could wait.But the caller was Jacob Lighterstone.“Hello?”“Hey. I got home and I realized I left my store ID at your place.”“You did?” I was breathing.
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