Fucking me . . . my mouth . . . in the late of night . . . in a darkened room . . . in the basement of an after-school recreation center.And . . . And... I was letting him! I stayed still and wanted him to keep fucking me. It was as if my mouth was a pussy and like I was his girl. He was having sex in my mouth like other men did it in girl’s pussies. It felt good. His hardness. Feeling the sexual need that throbbed in his shaft. It was adult sex and it made me feel adult. An adult was having sex. It was like it jumped while sitting in place. I didn’t wait for his answer.I put my hand on his almost irridescent greenish-gold jeans (who wears that?) on his thigh and his eyes closed and he breathed out and said, “Oh Godddddd.” I was going to tell him that I wasn’t actually God but I figured let him live in delerium a little longer.He never pushed my hand away so I went up his thigh and then curled my fingers around the tube in his jeans and I squeezed softly and after a few times, I got. Then came sweet relief. I shot rope after sticky rope of white-hot cum, point blank against her asshole. She realized what I'd done and was washed with relief. I knelt back trembling, and she puckered, taking some juice in, and forcing some out. I fell limply on the bed next to her. The room was spinning in and out of focus. We were both covered in the smell of subsiding passion and carnal lust. The sweat on my skin gave a chill to the air. "You know, something just occurred to me," I. After breakfast, I jumped into my pickup truck and made a phone call to the Marshal’s office in Alexandria, since they had jurisdiction over this area. Dwight had already called and warned them, and they had two Marshals en route to the farm to interview my parents and to investigate the shooting. Others would review Mister Kozlov’s finances. They wouldn’t say anything over an unsecured line, but what they didn’t ask gave me the impression that federal agencies were already aware of Mr. Kozlov..