”Derfel says into the phone, “Control, demonstration, your choice, no harm to people, but make it costly.” We sit there, waiting. A moment later...we hear a distant muffled bang like noise and alarms ring.A security guard checks his board and he says, “Shit! Harry, get the fire service. One of the vans exploded in level three car park and it took a dozen other departmental cars with it.” Johnson sits there, sweating.After another short wait Derfel says, “Hit his office.”Johnson looks up at. Like many members of the Interracial Femdom Enthusiasts Club, I was once afflicted with Jungle Fever. I was that White chick who chased Black men like her life depended on it. I would meet them in clubs and take them home for a night of fun. How I loved Black men's bodies and uniqueness. And their amazing manliness. I loved the way Black guys smelled and tasted. And I couldn't get enough of Black dick. I loved to suck it and ride it. I've had Black dick in my mouth, pussy and ass. And I totally. It did feel good. She gave my jeans back and tied my thong to her helmet straps and wore it across her face. Back on the bike you lesbian slut, you're really gonna enjoy the ride now, she tugged on the thong and said so am I. We rode for another 10 kilometers, and I near passed out from the intense vibration, in both holes. I leaned forward, gripping and caressing her breast as my own scent filled my nostrils. I was out on my head when we pulled up to a shack, surrounded by bikes. Milan was on. I lit it and turned the wick down, giving us plenty of light to see each other. I turned and gestured to the room. “Put your things anywhere,” I said.She wandered into the room, looking around.“Very masculine,” she said. I wasn’t sure how to take that.The room was orderly and clean. My clothes were put away. There were several handguns out and a few long guns on the walls. There were no flowers or lace doilies. I didn’t have any pictures on the walls. I did have one old photo of my wife in a.