I hate Thanksgiving so much that fucking the brains out of some strange grubby homeless guy just seems right to me. My psychologist says that I have a...‘self-loathing’ issue and that may be so, but I don’t really care what he says. It fills a deep down need in me. I only have sex once a year, on Thanksgiving Day, and always with some d***ken smelly guy who probably won’t even remember who he had sex with by morning. He might not even realize that he had sex at all. But I would know, and I. Drinking you in and loving every minute spent with you.My hands slide down to your shoulders. Fingers gently lifting the straps, pulling them outwards and letting the dress fall to the floor. I see your reflection in the mirror behind you. You are completely naked. "Ok," I say, "Where are your panties." You giggle and say that you took them off before we started our walk back. I hold you close. You push away, you say "Someone has far too much clothing on." as you unbutton my shirt, slide it off. More

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