He had his hands on her hips and moved her back and forth, riding on his tongue. It was stiff and long and hard, and she soon felt that familiar feeli...g rising in her. In less than a minute she had an intense orgasm as he continued fucking her with his mouth. Before she stopped shaking, she felt two fingers penetrate her soaking pussy. As he pushed them in, he twisted and turned them, curling them and tugging as he pulled out. After a few strokes, he pushed in a third finger. She felt her pussy. He had me pushed against the wall and stuck his cock in my face. He was about to order me to suck it. But I had already grabbed it and began to suck. I tasted myself on him and groaned in delight. I took all of him no problem. I was bobbing my head like a vibrator trying to get more. I felt him grow more in my mouth. I started to suck and bob furiously. When I released I went straight for his sack. I was sucking and licking. As I moved up I heard him moan some more and grabbed my head. And then played a little game with her, called “what’s in your pussy, bitch” they took turns shoving things in side her and she had to guess what, a beer bottle, a Ball-peen Hammer, a wire brush, a brick, a dead mouse (that was the hardest to guess), and then some fire-works, after a time they must have gotten bored because they stopped and left her just hanging there, with a burnt out Roman Candle in her cunt. She had heard them talked about running to get some food. As she hung there she. He knew I liked art - I wanted to be an artist even back then - and we spent a few days in art galleries and museums. Rothko had his own room in the Phillips Gallery. I sat on a bench and gazed at one of his paintings. My dad sat next to me and asked, 'Waddaya think, cupcake?' 'What is it?' I answered with a question of my own. 'It's sensation, feeling. It's called non-objective art, Katy. Non-objective art doesn't depict anything. It evokes sensations or emotions from its viewers. What do you.
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All I can do is gaze at Her, mouth hanging open. She puts on the little show, saying “there you go Graham, nice short skirt, your favourite!” My m
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