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Once again and much to my own disgust at myself, this action sent signals around my body once again. I was starting to feel nice inside despite the attack and I was almost relaxed as I felt each of the men cum in turn in each of my respective holes. The blonde pulled out and Phil allowed me back to the ground. This was only for them to be replaced by the other men in a line awaiting their turns. The older man stood at the back stroking his monster cock slowly.“Knees bitch!” The next man, a spotty ginger bearded man said. “Wank me off with them fine fucking fun bags of yours!”Feeling a mixture of defeat and excitement I obliged rolling my breast flesh so expertly up and down on his wet shaft. And it wasn’t long before he moaned loudly and I watched as his cock exploded deep inside my cleavage shooting his cum all over my heavy breasts.The oldest man now stood in front of me, his cock waving menacingly in front of my face. Feeling a new sense of power I looked up at him and. His breathing got deeper he was relaxing. That was good he would need to be relaxed for what I was going to do to him.I looked deeply in his eyes, kissed his sweet lips and said “Do you trust me baby?”He could not speak, just gave me a little nod yes as he nervously watched every move I made. I ran my hands down his body to his stiff straining member. Grasping it gently I moved the soft skin over the hard shaft like a loose glove on a hand. My eyes drank in all of him and my mouth watered. Reaching under his ass I cupped his firm butt cheeks and massaged them to groans of delight. I pulled on his hips so he knew I wanted him to roll over on his stomach. Now with total access to that beautiful ass I deeply massaged and kneaded those perfect orbs of flesh. I never wanted anything so bad before. His back and shoulders were perfect and my eyes streamed pleasure directly to the heat burning between my legs as I looked upon him, rubbing more massage oil on the object of my desires.Taking.
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Usually for him it feels as if he is playing a game, one wrong word could end it. Too much love could push the One away while too little would starve both him and the One Love’s breath. He inhaled sharply as his eyes caressed his written words, wishing with his entire being that his fingers could touch the One’s throat, cheek, hand. He felt his mind swim…with memory. ‘I love you,’ whispered hesitantly in the barely lit room. Her shape, smooth like a ripple of a wave, not quite touching him. His heart, he knew at that moment, would be forever changed. His eyes focused on what his fingers were doing, caressing her neck and cheek, willing her to understand the depth of feeling he had for her. Wishing he could transfer to her how much he loved her. Change. What is love? he considers now. Loving another means being willing to change those things within and without ourselves, to accept love over pain. For Her he was willing to change. Poetry was the smoke-filled air that made his chest.

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