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He fucked me from behind, in the bathroom while I had my handson the sink and again when we were in bed together. I thinkhe was a d**g dealer also. This guy, I think, is same guy thatI met two years later when I was living with the woman thatI married. I think he was looking for me but he didn'tknow who I was or where I lived. I believe he met my wife atthe restaurant where she worked and he must have convincedher to take him to meet me. When he showed up at our apartmentI had a feeling that I new him. He was with a woman that he saidwas his girlfriend. But now I believe she was his sister.My girl and this lady went outside to talk and thats whenhe ask me if I knew him. I think I said no.and then he left withhis lady. (This was added a year after I started writingbecause I just put this together now) I believe that my cousinand his friends traded sex with me for d**gs to this dealer,so this guy must have shared me with some of his friends.Some other thoughts keep coming up .... for. He doubles his attention to her pussy. One finger in her now wet anus. Teasing, licking, sucking her and making her sopping wet with his saliva.He slides back to position his dick for entry and begins the unwinding again. She has stopped crying now. Just snubbing sobs as she turns around slowly. Back to feel his hard cock pressing into her opening. An opening much wetter now. An opening already tiring from being held tightly closed so long.Another full turn and the pressure to open her is intense. He arches his back to press ever harder against her slit. He pulls back and thrusts against her door. Like a battering ram that opens a castle gate his cock is insistent. She knows she is too tired to fight much longer.She gasps for air, causing her muscles to relax and allow his dick to penetrate into her at least 2 inches. It bursts her maidenhead like the thin skin of a modern balloon. Virgin blood oozing down around his hot shaft. Before she even stops her first wail of pain he.
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‘Paris, of course. I’ve got piles of Annual Leave left – how about you?’ ‘Hmm! I can make a long weekend sometime, but not right now – I’m still up to my eyeballs in that damn chip. But once I can get free, you can take me to Paris, and I’ll show you around.’ She said the last phrase in mock seductive French accent, causing Stan to roll his eyes. Once the ice was broken, conversation flowed freely. Stan, as the driver, could only have one small glass, but Anne could feel her nose and upper lip going numb before the end. At about ten thirty, with the wine gone, Anne grabbed Stan’s arm and looked at his watch… ‘Probably time to go, Stan. Nice watch, by the way.’ ‘It was a gift from Caron.’ There was a long pause. ‘Who was Caron?’ asked Anne ‘My wife. She died last November.’ ‘Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Stan. I didn’t mean…’ ‘No, that’s all right, Anne. Oh, it still hurts, but I’m trying to get on with life, now.’ There was another long moment’s silence before he continued, ‘You’re right,.

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