1. Malpractice Chapter 3: My New Stomping Grounds REPOST


    Date: 10/25/2014, Categories: Fantasy, Hardcore, Incest, Male/Teen Female, Mind Control, Oral Sex, Romance, Author: Dadachum, Rating: 87.1, Source: sexstories.com

    and forthcoming with me. We strolled down the streets, talking, and it was like we were friends or on a casual date. “So you're an illustrator?” she said. “What do you draw?” “Mostly covers for children's and youth novels. Once I did a full illustration of a new translation of an Astrid Lindgren story, one picture per chapter. That was really rewarding, actually.” “Lindgren...” she mused. “I know that name.” she thought for a bit then, smiling, snapped her fingers at me. “I know! Pippi Longstocking!” “Right.” I laughed. “Only this one was of Ronja the Robber's Daughter.” “What's that?” “Well, it's a book for starters.” “Oh, har dee har.” “It's good. It's for young teens, but it's a good story. You read a lot?” “Oh, do I. I finish maybe two books a week.” “That's impressive.” “Why thank you, sir.” she said and did small curtsy, which didn't look right since we were still walking. I hadn't expected to be taken by conversation like this. This girl was really cool. She was smart, funny and kind. Though I guess that last part was mainly due to me telling her to be. Never mind. “So what about work?” I asked her. “Still in school?” “I'm majoring in botanics. I have maybe five dozens different plants in my apartment. And I write a column on house plants and urban gardening in a weekly lifestyle magazine.” “The impressives just keep lining up.” “Thanks. You've got quite the job yourself.” “It pays the rent. Or, it will when I get my own place.” “You live with a roommate?” “I wish. ...
    Still with my family. Haven't had much luck on the real estate market.” “I hear you. I got lucky. A friend of my mom was willing to sell it first hand. My dad payed half of it, but it's written in my name.” “Wait, so you own your own apartment? No rent?” “So 'tis, friend.” “Damn, I think you're winning.” We arrived at the second hand store on Levitt street about twenty-five minutes after we'd left the café. It was located in a basement, with old clothes hanging on racks everywhere. Along the walls were boxed of old DVDs and even VHS tapes. We browsed the place, making small talk. “What do you think about this?” I asked and held out a brown leather jacket with a faint reddish sheen. “A little short for you.” “You think?” I said and put it on. It was indeed a bit short. The arms fit perfectly, but the jacket only reached down to just above my belt. “But...” she pondered. “It sort of works. Just make sure to wear a shirt that covers your butt crack, in case you lean forward or something.” “Is there a mirror somewhere?” “Should be. There it is.” I went over to the mirror, and I liked what I saw. It was a cool jacket, excellent for the coming fall. I rarely bought new clothes, and at 25 bucks, this one was a steal. I figured I could treat myself. I also saw something else in the mirror. Rose, standing behind me, looking absolutely gorgeous. I imagined how I wanted her to cling to my arm, holding it as we walked out of the store. I wanted to kiss her, hold her. I think I might have ...
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