But as always "Concentrate" I say and stay working
Scissors clutched tight as I cut deep into the deed.
.
Snow... You had never experienced snow as white as this before (or even ever). The park you enjoy visiting was lacking green and now blanketed in a sheer white. Your gloved hands tested tiny balls of snow before you began rolling bigger piles for the new year's festival. Because not many people could visit, the park had advertised locals to create a snowmen crowd of their own.
Across the park was a man idolising you, patting down a snowman of his own. He wanted to go help you as you seemed to be struggling with a bigger ball. Just when he took one step, a stranger's dog bounced through your hard work. A man in a blue beanie came running behind, profusely apologising to you. Your beautiful smile was kind and forgiving, something the stranger didn't deserve. You shouldn't be giving him your attention and affection.
The dog had won your heart over before the man could even utter a flirty word. It wasn't even his dog, it was his elderly neighbour's. He was just using it to pick up naïve girls like you, Peter knew it. He knows how the world works. You offered for the man to be with you and your friends for the fireworks, if he makes it.
.
He wanted to visit you on your break at the restaurant, sipping his coffee and watching you. He had taken too long, the timeframe between you sitting down and your co-worker coming to sit with you was too short.
You dropped your spoon in your drink, whipped cream splashing onto your colleague's glasses. You laughed at his misery, proclaiming how it was an accident. The stupid fiend flicked a chip with sauce on it at you.
You brought up the fireworks. Of course, your friend was going to be there.
.
Peter watched your drowsy face contort into please. The sweet smell of chloroform had you making sure you didn't wake up as he fingered your tight cunt. He was so annoyed with you lately, actions proving as he delved harsher than before into your sweet pussy.
Hah... He supposes he can't blame you, his thumb gently circling your clit. He moved around your bed so he could get closer to your face. Peter pulled out his cock, timing his strokes to the squelching of his fingers inside you. You were just, so, fucking perfect. So kind and endearing.
Fuck, he can't wait to have you all to himself. Your body jolted in stimulation, thrusted against him. Peter watched as some of your juices squirt onto his hand and your sheets. He soon switched hands, using the one coated in your essence to fist his dick. He used his other hand to part your lips, placing the head against your mouth and aggressively thrusting. Peter put one leg on the bed, gaining a better angle.
"So fucking hot," he bates under his breath. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, ugh- Fuck-!!" Peter's hot cum spills into your mouth, washing over your tongue and sliding down your throat. You subconsciously cough, but he's one step ahead, turning your face slightly and massaging your tongue with his thumb. "Shh, good girl. Swallow it all."
As his thumb circles your tongue, he watches your throat gulp, his cock softening as the last few spurts of cum dribble out. Peter helps you take it all, collecting any that tries to seep from your lips. You sigh heavenly once it's all gone, even smiling in your sleep like a content baby. Peter can't help but beam down at you, his cheeks flushed and mind boggled with love.
He kisses your lips and gives you once last caress before leaving your room, doing a routine check of your home. He mindlessly sucks on his fingers that were in your delectable sex, tasting you idly. Peter comes across the whiteboard on your fridge, a means of communication since you were rarely home at the same time. Your hand writing was first:
