Chandrika Feeding Boyfriend

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Erma, whose ankle quickly improved, seemed to find the whole situation laughable and never showed any interest in participating. I didn’t care. Erma would ordinarily have been very attractive to me — with her thin, good looks; long, tapering legs; and small, round breasts. But I didn’t have the time or energy for any interest in her. Angie and Dagmar each wanted a lot of fucking and weren’t shy about demanding their share. There was simply nothing of me left over for Erma. Angie was the more demanding, eager to try a different position the minute the idea popped into her head. She enjoyed it, but was essentially impatient with fore- play. As soon as she felt her orgasm building, she wanted to come, and quickly. Angie wanted to be fucked hard and fast, egging me on if I slowed by rocking to a faster rhythm or digging her short nails into my ass. She paid little attention to my body, other than to pull me into the position she wanted and guide my dick eagerly. The sun was setting to le left so it was northerly that I was heading. I hadn't eaten, drank or rested in ten hours, now. My mouth was very dry.I stopped sweating as the coolness of the evening was coming onto me. I stepped from the dirt road I had been on the last two hours into a wooded area marked 'Posted' by the owner.I knew this place, and something was calling me. Something had bade me to come here. The feeling had grown stronger as I went along.There before me, in a mound along an oak tree amongst the pines, was the whole. It bade me to come, to enter its darkness, in the dark of the evening. I crawled into the opening and felt the earth beneath my hands. I crawled a long time, and came to a widening in the tunnel that I could feel but not see.Then the feeling that I was not ready yet to go on, came over me. I had to do something here, but what?I lay in the tunnel and smelled the earth. It had a must of something very old. I sensed there, in the darkness, that I was still.
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“I didn’t cross the centerline, and I wasn’t driving recklessly.” My mouth raced ahead of my mind.“Honey,” my wife said, “hear the man out.”“I wasn’t…”“Doesn’t matter,” she said.I glared at her; my darling wife had this grin on her face. She laughed at me, not aloud, but under her breath. Nonetheless, she enjoyed this. Her amusement at my predicaments in life was not at all a subtle criticism. On top of everything else, we’d been at odds about blacks for years. I never liked them, my parents never liked them, we considered them a threat to white Christians, to white lives.He scowled at me, putting the bundle of documents and money in his hand into a shirt pocket. He opened my door, placed his swarthy hand on my shoulder.“Sir, step out of the car, please,” he said. Remaining polite but insistent, he squeezed my shoulder with his gigantic ape paw of a hand, digging his fat thumb into the flesh just above my collarbone, his gargantuan, long fingers into the muscles of my neck.“No,” I.

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