Her reply comes immediately'Aw, you're too sweet. But dont call me babe, thats not my name.'You feel more sweat drip down your forehead. 'Do you mean ...hat?' Youtype.She responds 'Yes, sorry.. Im not a fan of nicknames. Call me Alina fornow. And can I ask you something?'You feel like you already completely screwed this up, the sexting hasstopped and she wants to ask questions. You feel terrible as you reply.'Sorry, I didnt mean to be offensive with the babe calling. Uuh, yeah,you can ask me. Beside the other entrance was a long table set with goblets and water pitchers, but otherwise empty; however, cloaks and hats were draped over the table’s chairs. I suspected a number of people were temporarily out of the room. Scratch and I made awkward small talk with a few men as we waited for something to happen. Apparently, the Black Prince and his cronies had stepped out to relieve themselves and to go for a smoke. The crowd was grumbling about the length of time they had been stuck in. He was looking perfect, tall, tanned brown, muscled and strong, with a strong, bulky hard penis in my hand. I played with his penis for a while and held his balls. He loved it and moaned and his love making intensified.He went down and me and kissed my thighs and on my panty, it now had a moist spot over my vagina, he knew I wanted him and again pulled my panty. It was a tough call for me but I again stopped him and said please Zahid understand I don’t want it all to happen. He was generous. Don’t get the picture? You could put a honeydew melon in each of my bra cups and still have room left over. When my tits aren’t destroying shirts, knocking over glasses and getting me creepy letters from assholes, they’re resting uncomfortably in one of my expensive-ass custom-made bras. Today’s was a white lace number, barely-present frills of fabric teasing at covering my humongous pair while actually doing very little to make that happen, serving them up and squeezing them together. I won’t.