He brought his hand up to the side of my face and turned it toward him. Our faces seemed to meet like two speeding freight trains that were colliding....Our tongues danced; we kissed for what seemed like forever. I'm not going to lie, I loved every minute of it. We were still kissing and I realized he started pushing me toward the steps. He was still behind me and his hands started to unbutton my shirt. I didn't stop him. He got my shirt all the way unbuttoned and pulled it off of me without. I kick my legs weakly, as the dog's big tongue laps thirstily over my labia. With animal vigor, it strokes my sensitive flesh again and again, licking up the sweet-smelling ointment.And as Ed watches lustfully, I feel myself starting to cry. Tears of humiliation trickle down my cheeks, as the dog buries its snout in my pussy and keeps licking me, slobbering all over my sex."Pleeease!" I sob feebly. "Stop it! Let me go!"Ed grins manically, as he fetches another glob of ointment from the can to. At 6PM I rode to McDonald's for a burger and fries before I put the truck on the road. The dead drop was described as a metal tool locker on the side of the road. It was one of those that looked like a portable toilet. It looked like a state highway project tool locker. That particular one was owned by the manufacturer of the Witch's Brew. After visiting the vineyard, I was wondering if Green Valley could be the only manufacturer or the stuff. They could also be the distributors of it. It was. You may have noticed that lately, my focus has shifted. I write more Black male and Black female-positive stories. Stories celebrating love and unity between Black men and Black women, rather than hatred and division. I won’t deny that I feel a lot of anger toward my fellow Black men, and at Black women in particular. But all that’s changed thanks to the influence of a beautiful, voluptuous sistah named Wendy. I have known Wendy for years. Ever since sophomore year at Bay State College in.