Fuck my gay asshole..." I started to thrust, my cock sliding back and forth inside of his tight ass, gripping onto my cock as I fucked him. I looked d...wn at his ass, mesmerized, seeing his ass cheeks giggle and bounce as I fucked him. Nice long deep thrusts as he took me. "Oh fuck... fuck that's nice.." I let out. he looked back at me, begging for more, "Yeah? you like my gay ass on that dick? come on... fuck my gay ass, give me that dick." I started thrusting faster but he was so horny he. "Do you want me to stop?"I fought my conscience for the briefest moment before managing to say, "No...please." There's just something about you." He nuzzled my neck, and I sighed when his fingers moved again. "I want to make love to you. But..."I held my breath. But what? I'd just told him not to stop. Did I also have to tell him aloud that I wanted his mouth on mine again? His hands everywhere all at once? That I wanted his cock buried deep within me while we were mindlessly writhing in. Love. Money. Sex. And I don't care who knows it.When I met Jackson Hall during my freshman year at Winston College in Boston, Massachusetts, we didn't look like we'd mesh. Hell, we didn't look like we'd hook up either. I was the heavyset young woman whom Winston College practically drafted onto its women's varsity rugby team. He was the six-foot-tall, good-looking, muscular and totally sexy black stud who played baseball for Winston College and was absolutely worshiped by sexy black girls.. We were dressed at the time, which was a bit unusual, since we spent considerable time naked and sweating on the great big bed. Stacy had her face down into the sheets, sleeping away the effects of our glorious escapades when an explosion ripped through the yacht.The force of the concussion threw us all on the floor. Stacy squealed as she flew through the air and landed against the bulk head. Jennifer dropped beside me without making a sound. I should have been paying attention to the lack of.