Do you copy my transmission?}{Yes, M8, I see you. What country are you from. Are you Italian? You don’t have any trace of that accent.}{I am Bahamia..., and way out of my normal neighborhood. I will explain when I see you. My name is Al, and that is also my callsign. Please be careful not to run out of gas because that would be very awkward. We do not have any gasoline we can give you to refuel. I will stop talking now, but my receiver will stay tuned to this frequency in case you need to say. It certainly is for me. That's all I can confidently assert.Lest you surmise that I am gay, let me put that to rest. I am not 'gay.' Nor am I 'bisexual.' But I am certainly not 'gay!' I admit to admiring these very manly, and dominant men that have fucked my wife, and gotten her pregnant; and yes I do find a certain 'envy' towards their far, far bigger cocks than mine; but that is not an indication of being 'gay,' or it isn't for me. I have never 'participated', directly, physically, with the. "Don't lie to me Monica."She turned away and began to open the house door. Nervously she fumbled with the doorknob and walked inside the house leaving the door open for her brother to follow her.Once inside, Craig grabbed Monica's arm. "Please tell me. I'm here for you."Monica couldn't look him in the eye. She'd been keeping the fact that Stephen had hit on her a secret from Craig."Well, "She began, " I have to tell you something but please don't make a big deal out of it."Craig made Monica. I button shorts and collect myself as I tuck my cock into my waistband. It's too hard to do anything else with and I get out of the car. I take notice on how beautiful this day has been as the even sky becomes more apparent. Slowly I walk up to our door and enter our home. I'm greeted by the sound of running water from our shower as I make my way through our house. I notice how you left the lights off as I reach our bedroom. I can smell the scent of vanilla through the air as candles come into.