We chatted a little bit and he seemed to be, in my nineteen-year-old sensibility, not a serial killer. I was allowed to close the office to grab lunch...if no one was around so after exchanging maybe twenty emails with this guy I decided to drive over to his place. So after circling the block eight times, devolving into panic sweats, and texting him, “I’m coming,” followed by “I can’t, I’m nervous,” approximately sixty-four times, I finally made it to his door. It was right around the time I was. Joseph sank deeper and deeper into the couch as his scrotum slammed against Chloe’s buttocks; given hardly any time to recover before being slammed again. “Fuck! Chloe! Calm down! Slow down!” Joseph ordered grabbing onto the side of her abdomen and trying to slow her down, “I’m going to blow my load if you continue like this.”“Fuck this shit!” Chloe said, getting off her boyfriend. She sat down next to him on the couch and began massaging herself, sticking her index and ring finger into. More

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