Tuesday, March 31, 2009


Lisa was at home bird-watching out her window when the phone rang. She put down her binoculars and picked up the phone and answered it.

"Hello?" said Lisa.

"What are you wearing?" said a voice not unlike Charles Bronson's.

"Who is this?" Lisa asked.

"Charles Bronson."


"That's right."

Lisa didn't say anything. She just slid her hand up her leg and into her wet pussy, wetter than a fleshlight.

"What are you wearing?" Charles Bronson asked again.

"My bird-watching outfit."

Charles Bronson moaned loudly into the phone and a splurt was heard. He hung up the phone.

Lisa listened to the dial tone a moment, then hung up the phone as well. She retired to her bedroom and played pussy games with her pussy. She'd poke at her pussy then slap her pussy than rub her clitoral button like nobody's business. She rubbed it so hard and fast it felt like fire. Then she squirted pussy juice all down her bird-watching pants. It was the best orgasm of her life.

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