his story is entirely fictional and is in no way connected with the subject.
Suddenly, in the middle of his reflective day-dreaming, the bathroom door nudged open, and from the quarter-opened gateway emerged Maisie.
Tom noted that she still hadn’t even put clothes on yet, still wearing the same pair of peach colored panties and matching lace bra that she had been frolicking around in hours ago.
Any resemblance to real persons, living, dead, or undead, is purely coincidental.
Once again, time on the clock was ticking away and Maisie Williams was taking an eternity to get herself ready.
You know the type I mean; always over-the-top, always affected, similar to a younger Anne Hathaway, forever eager to impress and prove to the world that she was unique.
All Tom could do was feed into her ego, to nourish it and pretend it wasn’t a strange, new world to him – at first, anyway.
Of the few, and I do mean very few, drawbacks to dating a celebrity, one of them was that every social outing required several hours of preparation, moreso than even the most vain, average female citizen.
Maisie was no exception to this rule – no, she was such a little actress.
“Anything for you love…” she hissed, moaning – her large, bright eyes fixed on the growing bulge in his pants as she reached behind her back and swiftly undid the clasp of her bra.
Maisie let it drop to the floor without resistance, and her firm, perky young tits didn’t move an inch.
I promise I’ll be quick, plus, what better way to test your new lipstick than to have it smeared messily all over my cock? He could see the wheels in her head turning, and the fire in her pussy igniting as she clenched her thighs together, she didn’t want to say no to him.