It was obvious that she was enjoying this. At last her hands slowed a little and she forced out a choked whisper, "Now! Please!" He twisted the baton ...uickly with both hands, making the tendons and blood vessels in her neck stand out. Her mouth opened and stretched for air, but she couldn't get any. Her struggles grew more frantic and nearly drove him over the edge. After another minute or so her hands stopped moving and fell limp. Her thrashing became weaker and less coordinated. He started. He was dressed in 'Sunday Best' - a dark suit, a black tie and he was wearing a hat, his face was full and he sported sideburns half way down the sides of his face, the hair was greying, but his eyes were staring, as if boring into my brain.I went to run, but he put a hand out, "Please, listen to me, I'm not going to hurt you, just to talk, Please Kate, for the sake of our shared family please listen."This made me stop, why 'our shared family'? And who was this man? His face was slightly. His massive black tool was the biggest I had ever had in me.He started fucking me hard. His dark chocolate skin was a contrast to my white tan skin as we fucked like wild a****ls. I know everyone down at the party had to hear my obscene screams. He kept drilling into me as I opened my legs wider. He grabbed my full, firm tits roughly with his big, dark hands. I arched them into his grasp as I tried to draw his cock deeper into me."You white girls really do get fucking wet," he told me as he. She did not know where or even care where. She felt herself angering. She shook it off and returned to her ritual. It was Gary’s custom to pour himself a glass of a California Port. Gary was extremely predictable, which for Jane was equal to boring. To all appearances outside the house, Gary was the perfect husband. He seldom complained about anything and was always considerate of her to a fault. Jane wondered why he never brought these actions home. For many months she had wondered what was.