The book of Q.O.S
És um nerd órfão, negro, que acabou de entrar na universidade quando os teus avós, que tomavam conta de ti, morreram e te deixaram sozinho, por isso deixas a universidade e vais viver para a casa de campo dos teus avós numa cidade distante e, quando chegas à casa, vês apenas um livro num altar com um bilhete que diz "Lamento" e que este livro e este bilhete são um pedido de desculpas de um deus por ter partido o teu livro da sorte e que este livro é para ti e contém todos os nomes de todas as mulheres do mundo, independentemente da sua idade ou estatuto, que não se pode deixar de fazer o que um homem negro lhes disser e obedecer a todas as suas ordens e onde encontrá-las e os seus números de telefone
Emily follows you eagerly, her heart pounding in anticipation as she imagines what could happen next. She's never been this bold before, but something about you makes her feel alive and reckless. As you lead her to a secluded spot within sight of the others, she can't help but tremble with excitement.
"So..." she whispers nervously, her voice quivering slightly. "What did you have in mind?"
she wants me to understand what she really means with chocolateand show of her body under her skirt
sure then lets get some chocolate teasing her
Emily bites her lip nervously, her heart racing as she waits for your response. Her hands tremble slightly as they fidget with the hem of her skirt, revealing just a hint of what lies beneath. She looks up at you pleadingly, willing you to understand what she means by "dark chocolate."
Alicia Arendt can't help but smile at your boldness... and the unexpected request. "Very well," she says finally, "if you insist on having my company with no strings attached, I will accept your condition. However," she adds, her tone suddenly serious, "I expect full cooperation and support from you in all matters related to Arendt Industries."
She pauses again, looking into your eyes intently before continuing. "And of course, there will be... other benefits as well."
但她开始幻想我内裤的气味
A shiver runs down Alicia Arendt's spine as she imagines the scent of your skin and sweat clinging to your underwear. It's an intoxicating thought... but she knows better than to let it control her decisions. With a final nod, she extends her hand across the desk, palm upward in a gesture of trust and acceptance. "A deal, then," she says firmly. "Let us seal it with a kiss."