Fucking My Indian Girlfriend In The Bathroom

Chryse grinned, and his eyes sparkled in the candlelight. She sighed, dazzled by his halo of innocence. Here was a boy unmarred by the degeneracy around him, a pure soul in a city composed almost exclusively of the dregs of humanity. He was a prize, and she knew it. They finished dinner together, with Chryse telling wild stories, and Primavera mostly silent, but for the occasional laugh. The talk turned to music, after the two had eaten, and they sang pop songs from the 1980s — the music they’d grown up with. He talked about his band, she expounded upon her efforts in the field of fractal music, and soon they wandered upstairs to her studio. ‘It’s not much,’ she apologised, ‘but, this is where I work.’ While she loaded her latest remix of Skinny Puppy’s ‘Smothered Hope’, he gawked at the wall of blinking LEDs where her server rack stood. ‘I know you’ve heard Iteration Zero,’ she said, ‘That’s the original piece. Here’s iterations zero through three layered. If you listen, you can. But even if we run the B main, you’ll get more track time there. That’s what we’re after here. We gotta run more kinds of tracks to get you more experience.”We hadn’t really talked much about next season, but this had me thinking grandpa had bigger plans for next year.“What are you working on, by the way?” I asked Grandpa. I was usually hungry to learn as much as I could about the mechanical portion of the racing.“Oh, adjusting the throttle linkage,” he said sort sheepishly.“What do you mean?”“Well, we sort of had this set so you couldn’t quite open the throttle up entirely. You’ll need that here today.”My mouth dropped open at Grandpa’s admission.“You mean I haven’t had full power out of this engine all season?” I asked incredulously.“Uh, well, no,” he stood up as he finished his work and bumped his head on the sharp corner of the bigger top wing.“God damnit!” he swore as he pulled has cap off and rubbed his bald head.Served him right, I thought as the implications rolled around in.
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