Inspirational quotes with commando.
Dipping his hand between the denim he’d parted, Logan thought he would feel cotton, but as his fingers brushed over wiry hair, he groaned out loud. “Commando? You came to see me fucking commando?
The life that you are about to embrace is not that of a soldier or a commando. It is the way of the assassin.
Oh my god.”He didn’t turn or say anything even though the frustration in Honor’s voice made it difficult.“My pants are stuck. I don’t think I can get them off without some help. Jesus, wet jeans are heavy and uncooperative.”A grin stretched across his face. “You want my help?”She let out a deep breath. “Yes, but you have to close your eyes.”“You going commando tonight?” he teased.“No, but…”He shut his eyes and turned. She took his outstretched hand and tugged him down to the ground. Once there, she helped him latch on to the bunched up denim at her thighs, he guessed. Do not peek, Bishop. Do not peek.“But?”“My panties are white and now see-through and there’s not a lot to them.”“Gotcha.” There wasn’t a red-blooded man alive who wouldn’t peek. “Let’s get these off you.” He pulled, she pushed and wiggled, and he got the pants to her feet in no time.“Thank you,” she said, a little out of breath.“No problem.”“Bryce!”“What?” Christ, she had sexy legs, and the barely-there material at their juncture left little to the imagination, so his thoughts leaped to about a dozen dirty scenarios.“Your eyes are open!
I’m not interested in any other man’s G-string. In fact,” she slipped her hands down the back of his pants and squeezed his tight, bare ass. “I prefer my man commando.”He nipped at her bottom lip. “In that case, we can search for a she-wolf as soon as I’m finished with you.
There was some violence a year ago. An important kid got shot during an attempted kidnapping while on spring break in Mexico. The Fortune 500 went security crazy. Now rich kids like Jack need a commando team to take a dump.
I floor the gas pedal. The Sonoramic Commando V-8 growls like an angry tiger and leapfrogs us ahead of the traffic.
I'm going to put the moves on her,' he says gravely. 'Things might get weird.' He says it like a commando setting up a midnight raid. Like: Sure, this is going to be extraordinarily dangerous, but don't worry. I've done it before.
Hundreds of ladybugs had taken shelter from the winter in the crevices of the decayed windows. From there, they broke into the apartment in commando squads. My joy at that first sighting of the ladybug spreading its lower winglets on the rim of the jam glass, flashing three spots of fortune, soon turned into something tragic and Greek, a bloodied slaughter. Like in Ajax, I had to pluck ladybugs from my toothbrush every evening and in the morning shake out my shirt that, overnight, was infested with too much luck, and at lunch, I'd fish kamikazee-ladybugs out of my soup bowl, their Etna's crater in the middle of the round kitchen table. When I shut my eyes and held the hose to my ear and heard the little crackle of tiny bodies sucked into the eye of the tornado, I couldn't remain neutral. Putting away the vacuum, I consoled myself with sentences of friends who, after a beer or three, like to repeat to me the axiom that sooner or later, living in the city, each person discovers himself to be the murder of his own happiness. They were genuine Berlin ladybugs, they'd occupied the windows illegally like my friends in apartments from which they were later evicted.
I go back to Oberlin in the dead of winter to give a "convocation speech" in Finney Chapel, the largest and most historic of campus structures. In a subconscious nod to my college experience I forget to pack both tights and underwear and have to spend the weekend going commando in a wool skirt and knee socks. I am toured around the school like a stranger by a girl who didn't even go here. We stop at a glossy new cafe for tea and scones. She asks if I want a tour of the dormitories- no, I just want to wander around alone and maybe cry.
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