I Had Never Done It Before Because I Was Always...

Why? I was in love with her, pure and simple. Some strange and inexplicable instinct told me that as unlikely as it seemed, Amy was the girl for me and I was the guy for her. I really didn’t care about her popularity or even her unparalleled beauty, there was something deeper that attracted me to her. I was somehow completely convinced that we belonged together. Until I could persuade her, though, I just wanted to be near her. If presenting myself weekly for another rejection was what it took to get her to actually speak to me, that’s what I’d do. It’s not that I got off on being rejected. Every time she gently sent me packing I vowed I would never ask her again, but somehow by the next Friday I just couldn’t help myself. It was like I was helpless around her – a moth drawn to her flame. I could feel that flame now, even over the phone. ‘So you are Tim Schwartz,’ Amy asked persistently. God, I was still in love with that voice. ‘I was, Amy.’ I tried and mostly succeeded in keeping. If you love me, you’ll be there when I get fucked.” “I need to think about it,” I said. “Take all the time you need,” she said. Over the next few days I dreamed about watching her fuck other guys. In all my dreams the men had gigantic cocks, eight inches ten inches fourteen inches; four or five inches in girth. And each time one of them fucked her in my dreams, she gasped with pleasure like she never had before. Like most dreams, it was unrealistic. It would take five minutes for her lover – always some faceless cock-bearing man – to bury his cock in her pussy because it was so long it took all that time to shove it all the way in. But what bothered me most is that I would see her hold him to her, wrap her legs around him, and see him pound her, her tits shaking, her gasping and moaning in pleasure, saying to me, “Stan, he’s so much better that you!” It was one thing to say to her she should have her needs met and have some fun in the process, but to be humiliated in the process? I.
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