When she commented that she thought of Zinfandel as a pink wine and too sweet for her taste, Ryan educated her. “Gram, both come from the same grap..., the grapes used to make Pink Zinfandel are peeled, the grapes to make this are not.”Dessert was pecan tarts served with a Malmsey Madeira, coffee was offered but no one was interested, the wine was the perfect compliment for the tart.They sat around the table, each took a second glass of the Madeira, the conversation pleasant as they caught up on. ‘I had a look at your bookshelves last night, Anne, but I never noticed your music collection. What sort of things do you like?’ he asked. Anne contemplated while chewing on a new potato. Finally, she said, ‘Bits and pieces. I’m a child of the eighties, so I love Madonna. One of my favourite songs for a long time was the one from ‘Top Gun’. You know, Take my Breath Away. I love Queen, Freddie was great. More recently, I’ve come to like some of Elton John’s stuff. ‘I don’t much like what they. Deepika started thrashing about on the bed. Raj did not stop.“Fuck me, Raj, Fuck me. Make me your whore. Tear my cunt apart. Make me your slave and your slut”-Deepika was moaning. She had already cum once and was on the verge of another orgasm. His nonstop battering made her cum again. Raj himself was on the verge of cumming. With a grunt, he shot load after load of his spunk inside her cunt. After a few minutes, both were exhausted. His spunk started oozing out of her cunt.Raj gathered his. Once aboard, he gave me a bit of a tussle-just finding out if I was competent. Nothing like the workout a cow pony would give a rider first thing in the morning. With firm but gentle hand on the reins and pressure of knee and leg, I got him in hand.He was pure joy to ride. The horse felt just right, on the dressage movements I tried. He took the jumps eagerly, clearing them all with ease. I asked dad, who was nearest, to open the corral gate so I could ride him out.In the open, I let him have.