The memories smolder and the soul always yearns.After the fire ... the fire still burns. — Roger Daltrey, "After the Fire" (used without permission)...hursday, August 23, 2:44 AMNext thing I knew, Mom was borrowing a gauze pad and a bottle of water from Paul, and was trying to clean some of the soot from my face while a cameraman set up a tripod. Meanwhile Rehema Ellis, a TV reporter whom I recognized from Eyewitness News on Channel 2, explained how she and her cameraman came to be in Jeannette. Aunt Bridgette is my slut now.”The thought was enough to send him over the edge and he came straight down the back of her throat. Groaning, he hissed out, “That’s it, take it all, whore,” as he pulled his cock from her mouth sending jets of hot cum across her face and into those wide, wild green eyes. She was gasping, twitching with her own impending orgasm, but Dustin slapped the Hitachi away from her cunt. Bridgette let out a desperate yowl that could have meant anything and wrapped her long. He realized that he hadfucked a lot of women, and maybe even a tranny or two, but he had neverreally made love until that night. She was a virgin but he was gentle.Perhaps more gentle that he had ever been with a woman. She seemed tocry out to be treated like that. She was misunderstood, maybe evenabused. In his hands she would know that even the roughest brute couldbe tender.When the sun rose, she was lying beside him with her soft thin arm drapedacross his hairy chest. Her eyes were open. ’ Chantal bit his ear lob as her searching hand found what it was looking for, closing around his hard rod and giving it a long, firm stroke. Martin gasped and trembled in her grasp. She gave him one more kiss before she climbed onto him, releasing him for a moment so that she could take his hand and put it where she wanted it: inside her panties with one finger inside her moist slit. She moaned, rubbing against his hand and shuddered as a small but powerful orgasm moved through her. Martin.