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Sharing the Wrong Girl

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“Do you want to know my kink?” she finally asked.

“Obviously,” I said, stealing another glance of the pink cotton showing beneath her shorts. Her thighs were smooth and inviting, and I pictured a thousand things all at once. If she was going to tease, I was prepared to call her bluff.

“It’s pretty simple,” she said, her hand moving down to her thigh as she tugged on the hem of her shorts. “I just like to feel like a slut. It’s a cross between objectification and submission, I guess. It’s mostly about feeling wanted. Like really truly wanted in filthy ways by all the wrong people.”

“That doesn’t sound simple,” I said, trying to focus on my driving as I inwardly groaned. Of course, she had to get turned on by exactly the things I was trying to avoid.

“Well, it’s not like I’m into piss or knife play. I don’t want to wear a pony mask or get put in a cage with a dog bowl. I just like it when men want to fuck me and are really obvious about it. Like how you got when I told you I let that guy finger me.”

“You are fucking intense, Lisa, do you know that? There is no way in hell I would ever tell Brendan any of this, and please tell me the same is true for you. He’d fucking kill me.”

“We’re just talking,” she said, her hand still fumbling with her tiny shorts.

“That’s true,” I said, knowing how big a lie that really was. “We’re just talking. For now.”

“It’s not like we’re going to do anything, right?”

“Well, it’s good that we have that settled,” I said with a smirk.

“But I guess watching isn’t really a crime, though, is it?” She asked, my eyes following hers as they looked down at her lap. “I mean, what happens in the car isn’t important. And besides, it’s not my fault if you happen to look.”

And then, as I looked at the road with one eye, and the girl with the other, she did just what Molly would have done. Never looking up, she pulled the thin fabric to one side, her legs opening wider until I could see her perfectly smooth cunt just two feet away from me.

“This is where he touched me,” she whispered. “He had his fingers all over and inside me, and I got so wet. Almost as wet as I am now.”

She reached down with her other hand and gently touched the lips of her pussy as I tried not to crash the car. When I finally stole another glance at her, she pushed one finger inside herself before pulling it out–slick with her excitement–and licking it clean.

(This is an excerpt from Sharing the Wrong Girl, a rewrite of Driving Lisa after Amazon banned it. If you purchased Driving Lisa and would like a free copy of the new version, just drop me a note and I’ll send you links to download it.)