"My name is Rose. What's yours?"I told her my name was Richard Wallace Bing and I was twelve years and three months old. I didn't tell her where I was...from but did tell her I lived close to the store. She listened, nodded her head like she believed me and just watched me finish the sandwich and milk."Why don't you tell me the real reason you're running the streets with no one to take care of you. And don't you lie to me. I gave you some food and a glass of milk so you owe me at least the truth.. ”“I have it completely inside me now. It is thicker than you, but not as long. I am pulling it out and letting it touch my clit. Oh My God, the sensations. Oh, fuck me, harder and deeper. I’m cumming!”She reached her peak and it sounded just like our times together. As she orgasmed, I stroked hard and erupted with my cum shooting out on my chest.“Did you cum on yourself?”“Yes.”“Good, put some on your finger and taste it. Tell me what it tastes like.”“Brittany, I have never done that, I don’t. The walls are pink, the carpet is pink, by God the fucking chairs are pink. "Really stuck with a theme here didn't you" Your voice carries on towards the ears of a tall blonde woman, dressed shockingly, in pure white. The tender fibers of her ivory dress hug her hips like no one's business, and your eyes can't help to flick all over her sultry curve. She catches the minimal of your eyes like a cougar, her teeth revealing themselves in a harrowing grin, your dick can't help to twitch at her open. She was tired, true but more than that, as a widow she was alone. She was still young, only 36, but lately her hands or her various toys were having little lasting effect on her sexual frustration. She knew what she needed and it wasn't just the sexual release, it was the need to be held, loved, and she knew why she didn't have it.She thought, I decided not to date, first because my husband had just died, and I was in morning. Later I made the choice that my children came first and now, one is.