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‘You know something Jefferson. You are one cold-blooded bastard!’ said Greg scathingly. ‘OH, so NOW I am a cold-blooded bastard. Listen! When I do a take-over. I make sure that some people would still have a job and feed their families! If I don’t buy over their company and revamped it, can you imagine how many people will be out of job because the company was closing down?! When I build a business, I create jobs. I, the cold-blooded bastard, happen to contribute vastly to our country GDP! Thousands of people working under me, depending on me for their livelihoods and I don’t let them down because you know why? I deliver what they want! JOBS! AND unlike some morons like you who THINK, love conquers all!’ Alex is now clearly livid. Oh, no…he is not going to let Greg get away so easily without teaching him a thing or two. No, no, he won’t let this happen. He won’t let a small time actor teach him about life. He relentlessly pressed on, ‘Let me tell you something Mr. Johnson, the shirt. ........so far”. Suddenly I made contact and stopped. I paused, licked my lips again and swallowed hard – this was the moment I’d fantasised about. I kissed the head gently all over, surprised at how big it seemed, then licked it, running my tongue all the way round and when it felt wet enough I slowly moved my mouth over it and gently sucked the end. God it felt huge, I was totally unprepared for how massive and all consuming it felt and I had barely got the head into my mouth. I gagged as I tried to take more of it into my mouth and went to move back but a firm hand was instantly at the back of my head. “Keep it in and don’t take it out of your mouth unless I say so. Now suck!”My heart was pounding and my own cock felt like it would explode. There was no way I could take it all, so more than once I coughed and gagged forcing him to stop momentarily. Initially he eased himself back slightly to give me a break but it didn’t last long: “Suck it boy” he told me again and again, as he.
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“So what were you thinking of wearing to the dance,” I asked. I didn’t want to wear a dress to a country-themed dance. It would end up more like a costume than a dress anyway, so I’d never wear it again.“How about we go for jeans and gingham tops,” Sam suggested. “Maybe tie up the shirt tails and show a little skin.”“Ooo, I like that,” Mom said. “What sized shoe do you wear, Sam?”“I’m a seven.”“I bet you could fit in a pair of cowgirl boots I got when Bill took me country dancing a few years ago. Steph, do you still fit in your old boots?”“Probably. They were a little big and it’s only been a year since I took lessons.”“Dance lessons?” Sam asked.“No, riding lessons,” I said. “I hate to admit I went through a horse phase.”“Didn’t we all,” Sam chuckled at me.“Oh, God, I did, too,” Mom said. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get lessons. I had to experience my phase through literature.”“Yeah, I never got to ride, either. But I always loved Black Beauty and My Friend Flicka,” Sam said.We arrived.

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