"He kept encouraging me like this and I could tell that he was really close."Fuck yes bitch, keep going, this is good. This is something you’re good...at."I heard his words and took them as a compliment, but also knew I still had lots of work to do. My hands were really getting tired by now from just stroking him hard, and my lips started to have a sore, tingly feeling. Fortunately, it didn’t take him much longer."Alright bitch, here we go. Now, take that mouth off my cock, do it now, and open. He seemed to be following the dripping cum with his eyes but beyond a naughty mysterious smile, he said nothing other than “It’s an honor to meet a sexy lady with a definite taste for chocolate.” To Lynda, his words were less potent than the accent in which they were delivered. That distinctive Caribbean lilt just made her so hot. “Um… Well guys, a lady has got to clean up a little…” she said gesturing at the grains of sand that clung to her body and the cum that ran down her thighs. It was as. This would be their last night together. They both knew it, were both saddened by it, but both treasured it as a priceless gem. He brought the red candles from the bath, setting them on the dresser and lighting them before starting the music, the soft strains of a lone Celtic flute. She stood and watched, warming and smiling at the smallest details that he remembered and tended to: the candles, the music, the wine. He was making it perfect for her . . . for them. Returning behind her, he. "Baby, I don't think you should talk to these guys." Honey, stop it! You know the deal between us. Why would you say this to me?" I know, but... These guys? They are black. They look like thugs!" I don't like racism at all, so please don't talk that way. Besides, I have always wanted to be with a black guy, or in this case, guy's." :)Before I could finish speaking to Gina, the bald headed black guy gets in between us and gets close to my face. He puts his arm around Gina and starts talking to.
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