Batas rusak 4.3

The thing they don't know is that I could care less about winning.

When the light turns green and I put my foot all the way to the floor,

I can feel the acceleration suck me back into the seat.

The vega I drive is so out of control, it takes everything I have to keep it straight.

That's more than I can save for myself.

As I travel down the strip, I can feel the sweat dripping down my body.

My nipples grow rock hard.

I can feel my pussy dripping with blood juice.

By the time I get out of my helmet and fire suit, I'm so fucking horny I could scream.

I would like just once one of those assholes to come up to me and congratulate me on winning.

And maybe, just maybe, ask me out for a drink after the races.

And especially like the black dude who drives the Camaro to beat the world.

I have daydreams when I'm working on my car, of him coming up to me and asking me if he can help.

I turn around and I tell him, "Yeah, you can help me. I want you to rip off my shirts, turn me around and fuck me in the ass."

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