That Friday she was in the lot waiting as I exited the building, we went straight to her home. It was in a very nice neighborhood and was nicely decor...ted. as we entered the front door she said 'excuse the mess, I haven't been home to straighten up yet,' I don't know what she was talking about the place was spotless. She said 'I don't entertain many people here and when I am here I spend most of my time in my bedroom, come on back.' I followed her trying not to run past her, my heart was. They began to chat for a while before the conversation changed, as it always did, towards playing what Kevin usually referred to as The Game. It was essentially just a sexual version of twenty questions. ‘How big is your dick?’ Kate’s words scrolled across Kevin’s screen. ‘When I’m hard, like I am right now, it’s about eight inches,’ Kevin replied with a smile, while reaching down to lightly touch his dick through his jeans. ‘Oh, I’d like to see it one day,’ came Kate’s reply. ‘Now it’s your. "Me: No, I would love it. Why do you think it would kill me?Her: You think it wouldn't bother you to watch a guy with a big cock fuck me? Or to watch me having orgasms on his BBC? Black guys fuck hard, and I would be screaming, cumming, and he would fuck me however he wanted. It would kill you!"Me: No. I want you to be happy, and experience a BBC. I think you would love it.Her: "I would love it."Me: It would be so easy to find a guy with a BBC to fuck you. You are so beautiful, guys would. Well... like a beggar. He was about 60 years old and his hair was unkempt and matted with unwashed dirt. He looked like he hadn't had a shower in ages. He stank of sweat and urine. His teeth were stained and there were dried drool marks on his cheeks. But his blanket still looked like a warm heaven. I was lost in these thoughts when my wet and shivering wife extended her shaking hand and took the beggars offering. She gulped two big sips of the dark rum and I could see some colour return to her.