My feet had just come from those sheets.It looked for all the world like a shack and I guess it was but there was a Motel sign I could see through the...window.'Motel ... bathroom ... bathroom ... shitter ... shitter ... fuck... ' in between each separate thought, my life passed before my eyes and even as bad as I hurt I saw the john door ... instinct and muscle memory moved my feet ... they were slippery ... I made it.Everything I'd had to eat for a week was smiling at me and then the dry heaves. My desperate dinghy crashed onto the rocks of our passion and I spurted and spurted, deep within her.Miriam held me like a long-lost lover back from some war overseas. She smiled and laughed and held me tight, whispering sweet words of delight and relief, delighted to be back among the living, free of the shackles of respectability, with not just a man but a frowned-upon white man on top of her, inside her, filling her with his taboo seed.~~~It felt odd that evening to leave the house on my. When she moves down, it feels best, because my cockhead is feeling the warmth of her pussy the best. My body starts to tingle. By cock is bouncing. She starts to moan again. Somewhat louder than when she was playing with her pussy. I also start to moan. We lose control and do not know where we are. In fact we do not care where we are. We have one of our best sex-experiences ever. It is so intense and that excited. It looks like we feel everything twice as good and sensitive as our previous. Although, after I'd finished butt fucking her, her anus would,eventually, return to its normal size--or something resembling it--itwas now so stretched that it readily accommodated the reinsertion ofthe cock that had reamed it. My prick, enormous though it was, fit herasshole as if the two had been fashioned for one another, sliding intoher as easily as a sword enters its scabbard.Keeping my spread hand upon the small of Kirsten's back, just above herrump, and squatting behind her, my knees.