‘It’s a tiny place, not on any map other than the local ones. It’s named Santa Angela. It only has one inn, the Il Duce. And it has a painting o... The Il Duce hanging behind the desk. However, we would always take our dinner at a small café across the road, the Tuscan Café.’ I continued, ‘Let me tell you, the food there was out of this world. And the wine was always from San Sebastian.’ As I talked Gitano’s wife, Rosa, came out and when she saw Jen. She ran over to her and hugged her, saying,. There's something else... can you tell what else?" Nope." Well," Ruth said, "I don't think we have to worry about getting drink on these. They're good, but sort of weak. I always thought Mexican drinks were supposed to be strong, didn't you, Elliott?"The band played softly. The pretty Mexican girl danced sensually around the small stage. Busy watching the stripper and the faces looking at her, Elliott only half-heard what Ruth was saying. Something further about the drinks, he realized.Smiling. He’s my wide receiver on the team: six feet four inches of pure chocolate muscle, as he likes to say. And my beautiful Lindsay is a year younger than me, and on the fast track to being captain of the cheer team next year after Henry & I have graduated. She’s the American dream: blonde hair, blue eyes, 32 C tits (I checked her bra one day) and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. I love her, despite the fact that she thinks it’s funny to call me Prince William. But back to the present, I. I was a crying, stuttering, slobbering mess but I felt a blissful feeling I’d never felt before. I was snapped back to the moment when I heard Jack’s deep voice rumbling out a guttural roar as he emptied his nuts into my worn out cunt. I just lay there admiring this manly studs rippling chest and straining face as he pumped each stream of steamy cum into my bowels. He shuddered with each deep thrust and squeezed my hips tightly as he forced his seed as deep as it would go. I squeezed my ass as.