freaky jess pooping a nd farting begins at 3:17 a.m. in a hotel suite. City glow through half-open blinds stripes her restless body. She can’t sleep, so freaky jess pooping a nd farting becomes her lullaby. Slow, almost lazy circles over silk panties gradually soak the fabric dark. In freaky jess pooping a nd farting, she pushes them aside instead of removing them—impatient, perfect. Two fingers, then three, stretching, curling, until the headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall. When she finally comes in freaky jess pooping a nd farting, it’s with a muffled scream into the pillow, whole body shaking so hard the mattress springs sing. Dawn finds her asleep in tangled sheets, panties still twisted to the side—proof that freaky jess pooping a nd farting worked better than any sleeping pill.