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She was going to get fucked, nothing that bad really, she liked to get fucked, just usually not like this. She only whimpered a little when I pulled her over to the side of the bed and let her legs dangle off, just far enough that her toes barely touched the floor. Next I yanked the belt tight again and told her to spread her legs. She immediately obeyed, desperate for breath, and when I let her inhale again her toes made a cute angle with ground, straining to give her a tiny amount of leverage with her legs spread open. She was trembling as I slowly lifted her skirt and squeezed each of her bouncy round cheeks. I ripped her panties off all at once and admired a surprisingly cute, narrow cunt between her legs, already beginning to drip with pussy juice from the fear and excitement. She wasn't surprised when I jammed two fingers inside her soft, wet little vagina, but she did whimper and call out to my girlfriend for help. My girl sleepily called back for her to just be. The drive home had my mind racing again, Chris was very sexy, I’d often gave her arse a long lingering look, in fact she had caught me once and had just smiles, wiggled it and carried on. Since it was Saturday I stopped at the supermarket to get wine and the ingredients for my evening meal and Julia's if she was about. She was home and staring into the cupboard looking for inspiration she turned to look at me. “You have a strange smile on your face,” she said. I stood beside Julia at the kitchen worktop. “Toby is on a sleepover, I left a note.” She nodded. “So I dropped his things over to him and Christina propositioned me.” Julia gave me a wide eyed look. “You lucky boy, sounds like I'll be covering for you.” “Well I was thinking about that and I decided that if you don't mind, I'd rather fuck your brains out than Chris's.” Julia span around suddenly and accidentally into my arms. “Well that is a surprise, but yes please.” “Good, but I think we should have some rules. I want your.
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I had not told her Malichai had come to town, and I certainly had not told her he was living with me indefinitely. I was careful to visit her often lest she make a surprise visit to my place and die of a heart attack on seeing Malichai. She never really liked Malichai. She tolerated him at one time, because I loved him, but if she had had it her way we would have never have met. When I came back home from New York, she vowed to… ‘stomp a mud hole in that white boy’ if she ever saw him again. ‘I just don’t know what you see in that big lump of nothing living off a trust. I know Mr. New York City ain’t worked a day in his life! How would he have taken care of you like a man should take care of a woman playing finger paint all day long?’ She said to me as I cried my eyes out in her lap the night I got back home. ‘Mama he’s a sculptor, not a painter. And he is a good man, well he used to be anyways …’ I said between sobs. ‘Hupmh seems to me that a good man wants a good woman … not.

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