G.Fireworks... Explosions... Sparks Fly... Whatever you want to call it. There was nothing in the world like the sight of this big mature woman's ass ...oing all the work... sliding back and forth on my cock as I leaned against the wall of the bathroom stall staring in utter amazement. Her warm pussy squeezing my hard cock and the rocking motion combined into nothing short of pure glory. Her ass wiggled with the motion and my hands couldn't help but squeeze and explore her massive mounds of. “Oh he killed the bastard. He does love me an awful lot to be honest.”This didn’t shock me in the slightest. Typical Jackson to kill a guy who raped and murdered his beautiful little sister Cassandra. But now, 300 years down the line, she was dressed like a sexy grown up woman, fucking god knows who, and what was he doing… turning humans into puppets so his friends could have a laugh. She sighed, turning to me. “That reminds me, we better hurry before sunrise. Because he won’t want to see us. They would, undoubtedly, be prepared to do many of the same things. But something separates them. What is this thing that separates them? Where does each woman’s morality – or lack thereof – originate? Where does it come from, this sense of right and wrong? The personality? Her upbringing? A soul? Is this the very essence which seeped out of David James Barrow’s shell when he died? His soul? Is it a soul that gives Catriona Hamsun her identity? Or is it, perhaps, memory? Memory and experience?. .. they'd been friends for years. Now, she was a woman and theywere lovers. And she realized she'd never before looked into his sexybrown eyes."Wow! You're really amazing!" he whispered smiling."You're not so bad yourself," she said and kissed the tip of his nose asshe hugged his manhood with her new vagina.Paul laughed."Want to come back to my place?" he said."Come back to the house, please" she heard in her head."I can't," Rachel said. "I have to go take care of my cats." Didn't I just.