I would like to be in bed with Stella Hudgens. I’d like to be tasting and savoring every sweet inch of her luscious thighs while she wore a big man’s shirt that clearly isn’t mine. I would be so enraptured by her beauty I wouldn’t even ask her who the fuck is that guy whose shirt you’re wearing? I’m pretty sure that’s what true love is. If so, it seems pretty obvious to everyone that Stella should be fucking me right now. So why aren’t you Stella? Huh? Why dammit? Why?
%d bloggers like this: