" She breaks down completely now. Crying so hard that she can't talk."My mama is dead." She manages to choke out. "I hate them!" She yells this time. ...I don't care what the books say, I hate them all!"She wipes the tears from her face. Instead of looking guilty for her out burst she looks proud and stubborn, daring us to make her take it back.Diana shrugs and gives Alys a sad smile. "Childhood is over." They are all dead. Coop included." I remind her. "They are hated, now you have to let it. Ab maine uska lund aaram se haath mein pakda aur dheere se uski skin neeche ki. Phir dheere dheere jeebh pherne laga uske lund pe. Aur phir uska lund muh mein le liya. Uska lund zyada mota nahi tha to mujhe koi dikkat nahi hui. Main dheere dheere uska lund choosne laga aur uski balls ko sehlane laga. Wo to jaise pagal hi ho gaya, wo lambi lambi aahe bharne laga..Wo jhadne wala tha to maine uska lund apne muh se nikala aur usko kaha ki ab choos mera lund. Ab wo mera lund choosne laga. Use thodi. Endless rows of little pieces of driftwood set into the wall with a green seaweed railing. The curve lifted seemingly endless, but she climbed on those lean legs tirelessly. Round and round we went higher and higher, sunlight glinting pink through mother of pearl windows. On we climbed, ascending till the wood steps flattened out and became a room. She moved immediately to the edges of a swirling mural, the colors muted browns, pinks, even blacks and greys. small pebbles intersecting with the. I tilted my crotch enough to keep the same contact. My lips began to press against her neck. My hand pressed at the collarbone and eased under her robe. I didn't hesitate. Her nipple rubbed my palm. My teeth gently chewed on her earlobe. Her vagina pressed down. I guided her to lift her butt a moment, pulling the robe from between out crotches. We began the natural motion of fucking. She set down the poem. Her lips met mine. Her mouth went wide. I corrected her. When she apologized, I told her.