"Can't sugar, gotta go."He stood up and grabbed his pants. It took him five minutes to find the rest of his clothes, during that time he felt her cold...eyes on him. She'd called him an ass for leaving her after the nights they'd had, like she was some cheap slut. He remembered then how he'd met the sweet vixen, well she wasn't sweet now, he told himself. It was now Sunday morning and he'd picked her up Friday night, at one of the bars in Miami. She'd been a hot fix for his needs, but now he was. Not a real man at least. She desired a man who could be rough, yet place the gentlest kisses upon her erect bosoms and beautifully bronzed body. She needed a man who could handle her beauty and knew the proper way of releasing the inner Rosita erotica. Her café brown hair brushed off her face as a gentle breeze became aroused by being lucky enough to touch Rosita’s perfect body. She stood on the side of a busy road, dressed in a light, fire red dress. Her bosoms trying to push through what. More

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