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Hot girls in panties have two papers about to be published. Two grad classes. A doctoral thesis to evaluate. You're whining like a bitch in heat. I just fucking need to get away. Be alone. Eat alone. hot girls bikini alone. Watch old Randolph Scott movies--alone! Snorkel. Eat pollo de mole. Read a Roan Barrow novel or two!"
"And you can't do that with me?" Paul yells.
"The key fucking word, Paul, is ALONE!" I slam the phone down, regret it, throw my hands up in a "fuck it" gesture. Call him back. No answer. Call him back again. No answer. How many different ways are there to say "fuck it" with your hands?
I make some calls and book a flight to Cabo San Lucas. Order the full deal. Me and the Yellow Tangs are just going to swim with our thoughts. Maybe I'll steal theirs. Probably better off that way.
At the airport, a security guard becomes curious that my only luggage is my briefcase, hot girls in panties when she opens it, contains some CDs, a CD player, half a sandwich, some student papers, a container of AnalEaze, and anal beads. "Hemorrhoids?" she asks, looking at the jar. "They can be murder on a plane!" Holding up the beads, she inquires, "This some kind of rosary?" Yeah, the short version, I explain. I try tell her there was a sudden death in the family. "So, you have family in Baja, Mexico, Mr. Johnson?" I am asked. "Please come with me," the guard says, leading me into a room. I am told they want to strip search me. I don't think I am being offered a choice. The guard leaves and a male guard replaces her. This is humiliating. "Don't hot girls in bikini my ass," I say, in my best fem voice and wiggle. I get a nightstick halfway up my hole. "Was that supposed to hurt?" He's satisfied and lets me go.
In the air, I finally begin to relax. hot girls in panties avoid the airline's music and go for my own. | |