In the later days, the process used to get quite fast. I would quickly undress her and climb on her without the simplest level of hesitation and she w...uld enjoy it all without a bit of hesitation with her eyes closed. But in the subsequent encounters I would allow more of her to enjoy my body. I wanted to make it equal opportunity for both of us without any discrimination; afterall you cannot be satisfied if you partner is not having fun. So I would place my dick and let her hands do the job on. I bet it fits easily.” I had seen this cops hands. There was no fucking way it would fit. My ass was still sore from the big dick that fucked me well and it wasn’t as big as his hand. I tried to protest, “No, No, please don’t.” The cop holding me down pressed harder and said, “Shut the Fuck up you little fag whore!” I could feel a lubed hand start to push into my ass and it seemed to slide in easily until it got to the knuckles. “See, I told you this would be easy.” My ass felt good but it also. And with a steel rod stuckup my backside, that was a prospect too unpleasant to bear thinkingabout.I'd never told Bridie about the dream, because I didn't want to upsether. This, though, was the first time I'd had the dream before theshow, rather than after. I wondered if it was an omen.The bedside alarm went off, and Bridie woke up. She turned and smiledat me for a moment, but then her smile was replaced by a frown ofrealisation."It's time to get up," I said. "We've got a long day ahead of. I have the usual male response ego-wise to seeing a woman I am making love to experiencing a particularly satis-fying orgasm or series of orgasms. But I really get off when my partner totally loses her control while I’m keeping mine (at least for the moment). When I can feel my woman raising her hips to get more of my tongue in her cunt or to press her clit harder against my mouth, I get unbelievably turned on. Even if we’ve been fucking all night, that kind of response gets me hard again.
Read MoreHow could I have missed it? Idiot! Obviously I hadn’t seen the back of the paper when I stuffed it in my tackle box that summer morning last July. A
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