Sally recounted the story of the broken paddle. ‘You only had two paddles with you?’ Bernie said more as a rebuke than a question. ‘And you didn...��t inspect them first?’ ‘Yeah, I guess they were pretty old,’ Frank replied. ‘I kept worrying mine might break on our way back over here.’ ‘Then you would’ve been out in the lake without a paddle. That’s worse than bein’ up the creek without one.’ ‘That ain’t funny Bernie,’ Emma Green broke in. ‘Here’s some coffee. It should help warm you up.’ ‘No,. Would you care to make a comment for the paper?" he asked, holding out a tape recorder.I thought furiously. I could deny this, but it would raise suspicions, and they would be on me like stink on shit. I opted for a second idea that I had thought out long ago."Yes, I am 'The Psychic'. Look, let's go back to my room, and we'll talk," I said leading the way. I assumed he would follow me, and he did.Fifteen minutes later we were seated at my small table with coffee before us, in my dorm room. I. It's life. There wereplenty of times I thought I could have been sick from sex. If you livea promiscuous life, let's face it, you have plenty of days you don'tfeel good, whether from all the partying or the fucking or the latenights. But, it simply never happened and quite frankly, my entriesabout not feeling well are kind of boring. I didn't publish The DoggingDiaries to glamorize sex or drugs or other behaviors, nor did I post itas a cautionary tale. I did it for me, as an escape from my. It hurt a little but I gritted my teeth and took it like a man. Steven got in a rocking motion. He would pull out a little and then push in a little farther each time. With each inward thrust I could feel his cock stretching my ass a little bit more. It felt like this process was going on forever.“Jesus Christ! How long is this thing?”Steven let out a little chuckle. “Its most of the way in. Only another 2 inches or so to go. Your ass is so fucking tight.”“Jesus Christ!”He got back into the.