” “You are right. Is your control computer still sorting through the data downloaded from my ship?” I asked. “Yes it is, and it will be at l...ast another 6hrs before it will be finished.” “Then I think that I will get some sleep,” I replied She looked at me and asked, “Are you sure sleep is what you want?” “What else did you have in mind?” I asked. “Well, I was made just for you and I am a fully functional… living… breathing… female of my species,” she replied “And?” I asked “Unless the. “Loosen up slut or this will hurt even more.” My ass cheeks separate, pulled uncomfortably apart, but I suspect that is the least of my problems. More slick, cold gel drips down my crack and two fingers work their way into my rectum. It stings, burns, and I try to keep myself from tightening the muscles. I can feel when the fingers are pulled free and replaced by the head of a mans dick as it is slowly worked into my tight bud. The pain is excruciating, and despite my attempt to remain still I. Here I was in my mid forties and I had just spent a wonderful night with a girl who was barely eighteen. I slipped out of the bedroom and downstairs to have a cigarette and some coffee. When I had both in hand, I padded out to the Sun Room and sat down to ponder and reflect on the events of the last twenty-four hours. First, a little background. My name is Gary Wylde and I am a forty-four year old floral designer. No, I'm not gay (you should have figured that out by now). I will admit that many. "You knew I always thought he would come back, didn't you Bill. We talked about it. We knew what it would mean ... to us," she said, her voice almost a whisper."Yes ... yes ... I knew." He paused for a minute. When Darla remained silent he spoke. "I'm happy for you, Darla. I know it's what you wanted. I'm happy for you." He was sincere, even though his stomach was churning and he was suffering the emptiest feeling he had ever felt."Thank you, Bill. I won't forget what we had. I will never tell.
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.."Alone at last," came the sultry voice in my ear. Kerry again, pressed up against me in the crush of people trying to reach the refrigerator. Presse
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