So, we add yet another moral question to our daisy chain. To move back to my central topic of why I write though, I want to link this point of someon...’s name being a label for self with the issue of taking a political stand and painting a picture of the world as we feel that it should be. Now that I’ve thought about it some more, I can see where it is idealistic to want an Ibo couple to have no qualms about naming their son a Yoruba name. I saw nothing wrong with it when I was first challenged. My naked breasts rose and fell as my excitement built and built. I couldn't help but stroke Tim's cock. My brother had the same black hair and green eyes as me. He was a tall guy who still had that lean, swimmers build. My hand lightly pumped up and down his dick, keeping him hard as we waited for the “real” ceremony to begin.We weren't the only ones naked. Everyone was. Nearby, Mr. Umayyah sat with his wife, daughter, and stable of whores he ran. Leyla sat on her daddy's lap, probably impaled. He hated Preston. No decent restaurants, too many foreign restaurants. Too many Chinese, Indian, Italian and worst of all to Stott, American burger and pizza bars. Pub food again this evening then, Stott once again shuddered at the thought.Tomorrow evening he would be going back home though. Stott hated being out of London. These small provincial towns gave him the creeps, but it was part of his new job to go around such places to make sure they were doing their jobs properly.And he loved his. Over the following year, they were lucky enough to adopt two girls from different women. The first was named was Reba and the second, Martina, in accordance with Lavender’s musical taste.Growing up, the two girls were inseparable, but they could not have been physically more different. Both were attractive, but whereas Reba was petite, Martina was large of stature. In what would become a lifetime of parallels, both graduated from school, attended college, then got married a month apart, and.