Of course I knew who had written it. Everyone could have guessed.She was a unique seventeen yeard old girl. She wasn't makeup-and-clothes-obsessed, sh... wasn't a mouthy brat, she wasn't an angst-ridden teenager, she just was who she was. Her hair was a shade of red you could never bottle. Her eyes were hazel, my favorite eye-color on a woman, always swirling with emotions and mystery. She liked the same music as me, the same literature, the same sports (actually she only liked two sports, but. "Damn." Sam whispered, as she read of the orgasm that occurred within the story. Her hand crept back to her already wet core and started to massage her thighs. Her other hand pressed into her chest and drifted lazily around her areola, causing the nipple to harden and as it did, she pinched it, causing a flash of pleasure to spin its way down to her core. "What are you doing right now?" "Reading. You?" "I meant..." "I know what you meant!" Sam had always enjoyed torturing Jon. Just a tad. She. More

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