Antoine was Haitian and slightly built, with long dreadlocks that looked odd under a chauffer's cap -- but then, he seldom drove. "I see you," Antoine...had kicked things off. "You got both them women sniffing dick. That's fine -- it keeps them off me..." Antoine was a gay bottom and happy with his position. "This is easy shit. Old Hobart wants to play white massah and fuck little black boys. He ain't got much, but it's enough to be fun. I play, I change the oil on the cars, and I fuck off -- and. .”Her head fell, “I know it’s bad news ... because you’re using the fake name you gave me.”“Fake name?”“Please, if I’m going to be banished from you, at least use my real name.”Preston-Emily stood up, “Okay, there’s a place to start, let’s get you your real name back.” With a smile she walked around the desk and over to Sarah. “This will be easier if I can touch you.”“Oh, yes my Lord.”A hand to her cheek made the connection simple, and Emily focused on one thing, her true name. It hit her like. Her big pink lips sucked the tip. My mouth got dry for a second watching her. She put her left hand on her big hip as she continued to drink some water. I then looked at her huge breast. She had sweated through her pink sports bra. Both her nipples were rock hard. I then looked between her legs. I could see some dark pink panties under her white shorts. It look like she had a big camel toe popping up between her legs. My mouth was now bone dry. "Let me inspect your work." she said. I watched as. One of the men who posted there began an email correspondence with me. It seemed ideal, faceless interaction, a dream come true. Eventually he wanted to meet. I considered it for a long time then agreed, laying my rules down: just sex, fully clothed, in my car, then we would go our separate ways. As first times go it went pretty damn well until he brushed my hair back from my face and saw all the scarring. Nothing guaranteed to shrivel a hard cock more than realising your partner looks like the.