Your erotic stories

September 2003 "Ya got ten bucks Mister?" she asked as she darted in front of me, one of a small group of black clad, pierced and tattooed punkers who'd mysteriously appeared in the neighborhood just days earlier. "Ten bucks? What happened to the fifty cents for squeegeeing my windshield?" I asked with a grin. "Fifty-cents! A rich, hip Miami guy like you," she teased, jiving me as she danced backward as I continued walking.

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