Nostalgia is a Bitch!

"I mean, come on, LOOK AT THAT FUCKER!"

Artis threw his arms up, still keeping one firm, possessive grip on Lily's pillowy tits.

"He's speeding off like he's got the explosive diarrhea of a lifetime—like he just chugged three gallons of spoiled milk and now he's in a race against his own goddamn sphincter!"

The marketplace fucking lost it.

People clutched their stomachs, bent over in laughter, while others just stood there, eyes wide, trying to process the absolute filth that just came out of this ridiculously handsome man's mouth.

And Lily?

Lily was gone.

Her knees buckled as she wheezed, clutching her stomach, eyes tearing up from how fucking funny this all was.

The worst—or best—part?

She was so goddamn distracted by her own laughter that she completely forgot— Artis' hands were still glued to her tits. And something big, hard, and unreasonably thick was pressing against her ass crack.

And it was fucking twitching.