Coming back mine?

not racy enough to be rated mature

Confidence exuded me, barking orders in the taxi as if the chained dog had partaken in elocution lessons. Then brought “home” inverted commas, very vertical knickers although gravity could have took the night if I played my cards right, but no. Close to my chest, helping me to rest, I need sleep. 

Drifting off while Noel Edmund's shirt made another studio audience queasy. Yep fell asleep beside her. This girl I did more stuff with when I was a kid. Wanting to play with walki-talkies after I had a massive poo, even as a child I had sense I didn’t want her near there. A next morning cringe, as that drunkin’ binge had me on the fringe of getting some minge. I Slipped up. Pretended to not give a f**k but the face said it all, or maybe it was a close call, that was too close to call?

 

Occasionally my conscience questions my thoughts, I beckon it to stop, and she never gave back my top.