He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?"She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. My husband passed away last night."The priest says, "O..., Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, Mary, did he have any last requests?" That he did, Father."The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary?"She says, He said, "Please Mary, put down that damn gun."And the Best for LastA drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, sits down, but says nothing.The Priest coughs a few times to get. It wasn't hurting much at all now. He was all the way in, and began moving, rocking, in and out. I was being fucked. By a man.I resigned myself to it. It was a sensation like nothing I'd experienced before, not really that unpleasant once I adjusted to what was happening. Shame and guilt washed over me. That was the worst part. I no longer felt manly; I felt like a woman being ****d. I hated it!And yet, my own cock was starting to betray me by getting harder and harder as the forceful thrusts. She’s got a lot of energy and she clearly thinks she is the life of the party – even when there’s no party. Occasionally we cut back to Glenda talking direct to camera in the foyer of the hotel, huge smile. The whole time Glenda is monologuing over the top.“I suppose you could say that I’m a little larger than life. I like taking charge. I like to organise people and things. Some people say I’m a control freak – some just say I’m a freak... (she laughs at her own comment) ... I’m 50 years young. .”the sweat moves from my breasts to my legs making my mini pinstripe more snug against my ass holding my dark green tong in place and my dark purple garter lightly damp that’s holding up my black fishnets. Only two more blocks to go and every male turns to look at the sound of my black stiletto’s hitting the pavement, most do a double take because of my near bursting pale 40 dd’s in a tight fitting blouse. I ignore them to hurry so I’m not late for my first day already panting from the heat. .