She popped open the trunk of her gray 1999 Toyota Corola, tossed her suitcase in, before hopping into the driver's side and turned the key in the ignition to hear the engine sputter to life.

By the time Mathew heard the engine sputter to life, he was on the verge of yet another climax. He panted, taking in deep breaths of the indie wrestler's foot funk, quivering in pleasure.

Gently, the little one began to lick. He ran his tongue along the underside of her skin, lapping away sweat and swallowing the grime deeply. He wanted to get her attention again. Once she was safely ensconced in the car, Raz let out a slow, almost contented sigh. That's when she was really, really able to feel the licking against her toes.

Oh, shit, right. The little dude.