Mate Mistake
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Parker woman was dead. He had to be Some hunter cut off his head, turned it into a bongo and had given it to their ******* offspring who were currently banging the **** out of it with a wooden spoon. That was the only reasonable explanation for the pounding that reverberated through his skull. God. But his mouth was dry. Too dry to wet his parts lives. His tongue was wearing a cashmere sweater. He pressed it against the roof of his mouth and reach for something liquid. ******* ****. He'd need a Brillo pad. Describe it. Claim what the **** that he put in his mouth. The decanter on the floor next to him was empty. That *******. It was all the full moon whiskeys fault. What had he been thinking? Yeah, let's drink some full moon whiskey. Wolf, Spain. Alcohol. That was a stupid thing to do. He'd never been that drunk ever. No wonder his brothers treated him like an infant. He could have. Well, actually, he couldn't have changed. That is a grin. Cracked his face, and he grown because indeed indeed, feel like someone had taken a hammer and actually smashed it into his mug forcing his face to crack into a smile. He'd gotten ********* responsibly with the wolfsbane. He could be completely out of control without being a danger to anyone but himself. That Waas he congratulated himself and had to say you felt pretty good about the whole thing even though he was paying for it now, paying through the ******* knows literally, his stomach rebelled in Oh, goddess Parker scrambled to get himself upright and found himself flat on his back again with cool but strong hands on his face. There was a tiny woman on top of him holding him down. She was strong for such a little thing. Normally he'd be all about that life. But with last night's mistake threatening to erupt like a volcano out of his face, he wasn't in the mood except her cold hands made everything right in the world. It was as if her touch shut everything out and the planet stopped spinning. There was only silence and the calm debts in her dark eyes that swallowed him up. Only it was nothing like drowning. It was more like flying. Parker never wanted it to end, at least until he became aware of more earthly concerns. She was naked. Her skin was like Arab, not chocolate, not coffee, a smooth Gloria's shade of brown that made him think of a time when the world was new. Her hair was black and thick, Wavy. He couldn't figure out her heritage. Wherever she come from. He imagined the women. There were all man killers. She was so incredibly beautiful. It almost hurt to look at her. She was in possession of the most gorgeous, perfect breasts he'd ever seen. For Parker, that was saying something while his older brother had the reputation for being the billionaire playboy, always with the new lady on his arm or, more accurately, been over his desk. It was actually Parker who had all the sex. Parker had so much sex, he was surprised there was sex left for anyone else. His cavalier attitude made panties drop wherever he went. That and he was a connoisseur of feminine flesh. Some people were passionate about art somewhere passionate about wine, some jewels. Parker's number one passion. His joy in life was women. He loved the way they looked, the way they felt, the way they smelled. He loved the way their brains work, especially the really smart ones, a woman who could flay him alive with a witty reposed. Perhaps it made him a bit perverse, but that gave him teak for days. He loved all women, big ones, small ones, life one's round ones, curvy ones, large breasts, small breasts. He could find something beautiful and every woman and could enjoy her for exactly what she brought to the table, and this one, he'd liketo have her on the table.