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“All right. Knock yourself out.” He vanished, and outside of the pentacle, the figure I’d indicated appeared lying naked on my pallet. She looked exactly like me, only with bigger hips and breasts, and with longer hair, and no pimples. She didn’t strike me as particularly lovely, but I wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to make the beast with two backs. And she had a sort of dopey expression, like I have after I squirt my juice. My hips swelled, and I felt the hair on my head getting longer and heavier. My pizzle got almost completely sucked inside my loins, though the acorn at the tip and the sack below stayed mostly outside. “For everything you did, you’ve got to pay the price,” he said and vanished again.
She was still wearing the gorgeous camisole when he began massaging her shoulders, but soon sat forward a few inches and lifted her arms in a silent signal that it was time for the garment to come off, and Sam happily removed both it and his tee shirt. He could tell she was getting close to orgasm, and was grateful because he also knew he couldn’t last much longer; the taunting her fingers were performing on him, coupled with the fantasy that had enabled him to while away the time during the slow drive home, had him primed to shoot his load like a horny 16-year-old, but he dutifully held out for her signal.
"I think students should be taught real life skills," said the woman in a determined voice, "Like oral sex." "Yes, Mr. Chairman," said Miss Dover quietly. "Mr. Chairman," said Miss Dover in a quiet deliberate tone, "I have done some research and asked people who I acknowledge to be experts in the field and they all tell me the same thing." "Actually, you will be teaching oral sex to high school seniors at a prestigious all-girls’ school in Southern California," she said as she leaned over and touched my arm. For a moment there is sounded like you said I will be teaching oral sex at an all-girls school in Southern California." I was surprised I got those words out.
Though I rarely logged onto the site during working hours, I often thought about it. One day during a chat, a girl told me of an online encounter she had with another woman. She told me she had cybersex with another woman and she found it very arousing because it had been a long time fantasy to be with another girl. Though the possibility of me observing two girls cybering seemed like just a dream, it was a fantasy I could not get out of my mind. The next day at work I logged on to the site early. "I am getting horny just thinking about meeting a new girl." She wrote on the screen.
Add some more broth, a little olive oil (Mrs. Lopez used a tiny dab of lard), finely chopped oven-roasted tomatoes, skinned, that I have in the fridge, maybe more black pepper, taste for salt, and simmer on low heat, stirring occasionally. You curl up, and whisper in my ear "Jew know, all I hjave to do ees just say 'theees Posole, it ees is OK, but I have had betterr', and I can tie up your balls weeth a little twine and strrrrap on my big black frrrrriend and ride jew like the men of my village rode the broncos during the rodeos I attended as a leetle girl, tickling your balls weeeth a big feather.
Gwen broke away from the kiss, and said to him in a cute, little girl voice, "Not to mention, alcohol makes Elves horny as fuck." He watched her face with amazement as she started to cum, her pussy squeezing tight around his cock, and then he felt his own orgasm, as he shot spurt after spurt of cum into her. After a moment, she gave him a serious look and said, "Oh fuck, I am such a naughty Elf. I think you're going to have to punish me." He knelt behind the little Elf and pressed the head of his cock against her ass. "Shit - shit - fuck - punish me - spank your slutty little Elf - OH HOLY CHRISTMAS!!"
As his hard, black face filled with anger and my eyes adjusted to the darkness, my mother squirmed on the bed, chomping on her bit trying and failing to speak, scream, or cry. My brain spun like a top, my eyes seemed to pop from my head and hover high above us, watching intently as Anitra worked on my swollen prick. Anitra pulled away and let the semen cascade down her dirty, red T-shirt like a mighty river, guiding its stream with her hands. As the darkness outside intensified, and Mocha's animalistic grunts began to fade under the din of traffic coming from the nearby expressway, I thought about my mother and Uncle Mario and what I had witnessed so many years ago.