Her hair was dishwater blonde, and her eyes were hazel. She had rather thin, but cute, sexy lips. I noticed a slight accent. It was part Southern and ...art something else. She told me she was a Cajun woman from south of New Orleans.Wait a moment! How can one be from "south of New Orleans"? I thought. There was nothing but mud, swamps, and ocean south of New Orleans! Well, maybe not!We met at a coffee shop. She had a beautiful smile. I kept glancing at her body, legs, and feet. I made a date. I. Oh God! You're making me do it. You're making me fuck you!" I'm forcing you," I murmured as our tongues combined in a lover's embrace and her feminine electricity discharged through our clothes. It was loud and sharp, like a clap of thunder, and she jumped away as if I'd hit her and hurt her.I ran my dirty fingers through her hair, clutching the individual strands in my grasp. "I used to come here often and I'd imagine a beautiful young farm girl who'd fallen down the hole," I growled, and I. More

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