63. Luther
Luther
Kendra walks down her front steps, backpack in hand, legs on display. All that skin flashing in the beam of my headlights.
By the time I put the truck in park, she’s already opening the passenger door.
Instead of chastising her, I reach across, take the backpack from her hands, and set it on the back seat.
She climbs into the seat in silence. And I look.
I look at her shiny hair, hanging down to her shoulders.
I look at the cardigan that can’t hide her nipples.
I look at her lap.
At the outline of her pussy in those fucking shorts.
She shuts her door, and the overhead light turns off. Leaving us in the dark.
I swallow and shift the truck back into drive.
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