It was too much for the boy. He began spurting shots of boy juice almost immediately, liberally coating the coach's dick and shooting into the thick b...lly hair. The boy sagged in the coach's arms, but he wasn't through yet. The coach made him lick his own cum off the coach's meat, and then stand up on the bench again. The coach gently pulled the boy into his arms, and one massive hand clasped him behind the head and brought their mouths together. It was the boy's first male-to-male kiss, and he. “It’s going to take some work, Mister,” she said, her hands still squeezing my shoulders. “Not just you, but me too.”I sighed in relief. “Okay ... so ... can I offer you a glass of wine? It’s almost happy hour.”“I don’t give a shit if it’s ten in the morning, I’m ready for a glass of wine,” she laughed.I laughed too, feeling the release of tension. I reached for an open bottle of Cabernet and poured us each a glass.“To reconstruction,” I said, holding my glass up to hers.“To better days,” she. There wasn’t anything on my camera able to generate a message like this. No apps, no internet…no way. But more than the impossibility of it, the question itself stuck out to me.Wouldn’t anyone, if they were in my shoes?Still, I selected “no.” Whatever strange force—and yes, I already believed something supernatural was at play—had infected my camera and posed me a question with such an obvious answer had wasted its time. Sure, I wanted change. Wanted it more than anything. That’s why I was. Why should I be surprised, Joey has fucked me bareback and put at least 7 or 8 loads of his 30 year old potent sperm in me in the last 10 or 12 weeks. I. said calm down ... think it through. I grabbed my purse and jumped in the car headed to the drug store still with my bare cum filled pussy in the wind. I bought two EPT test kits. When I returned home, I went straight to the bathroom and followed the instructions. I peed on the stick and waited ... nothing so far ... I started to sigh in.