”“Shit. I bet that was it,” Ayanna muttered.“What was it? Why does it matter?”“Will...” Ayanna started, stopping as her brows lowered. �...�He’s got, like, an odd way of speaking? He doesn’t stutter, he doesn’t stammer, he doesn’t go ‘um’ or ‘uh’. He doesn’t say ‘like’ all the time, or ever if it’s not actually required. He says everything as a complete thought, like he’s planned it all out ahead of time, always. And he’s always very, very careful to use exactly the right words. I think it’s part. Right from the start, Brett’s unshaven face caused discomfort, his short whiskers scratching my smooth thighs. I opened them wider, only to find that his short bristly moustache irritating my normally receptive pussy. For a short time, I tried to ignore my discomfort, for his warm tongue felt nice on my clitoris, but I eventually had to pull away.“What’s wrong?” he whispered.“You need a shave; your whiskers are hurting me.”“Sorry.” he replied raising his face from between my thighs.I looked. More

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