"NO!" No, no you're right, it isn't a salad Ananya."She smiled as she swirled it around. "Not a salad at all. In fact, what it is, is your spit mixed ...ith my ass juice. My dirty dirty ass juice. And you know why it's dirty?" Because your ass is dirty," I said. "Because even though when you walk by me I can smell perfume and roses, if I dig deep enough I'm going to find a part of you that's super dirty and smells like an earthy spicy ass musk." I was rock-fuckin'-hard.She swallowed and leaned. “No, I’m not good enough for the orchestra, and I’m not that interested anyway,” I replied. It was then Beth pointed out that if we spent most evenings practicing together over the next few weeks we might both be good enough to get a place. Just the thought of spending evenings with Beth was enough to reinvigorate my flagging erection. “Okay, maybe we could,” I said, trying to hide my willingness. It seemed to take an age for the following Monday to roll around, and for the evening to. More

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