Sixty-five, But Who’s Counting (Ch 3)
Tate rides into the setting sun.“Tate,” I corrected her. Barb crab walked up the bed and rested her head on my chest. She teased what minimal hair I had. “Tate, Clint; who cares?” She uttered. Clearly, I was just a big cock with a body attached. Barb licked her right long finger, then t...