We're purists, nothing but Afro-American saliva to lubricate our passion." "Please," I say. He's still holding still, the pain is subsiding slowly. "...ow do you feel," he asks after an eternity. "Better," I say. "I'm in by three inches, five more to go." I wiggle my butt. He slaps it casually. "More spit," I plead. "OK, he says, but it'll hurt again." He exits, spits some more spit onto his dick. Another thrust, another painful explosion, as predicted. "Ooh, no," I yell, my eyes filled. It's a wonder she wasn't raped.A drunken leer came across his face, and he gunned at the closed bathroom door. Rape! She was carrying it just a bit far, changing in there. After all, it wasn't against the law for a husband and wife to be naked together. He snorted, realizing how long it had been and knowing that she was shortly to come through the bathroom door clad in an ultra-respectable nightie--probably something made out of flannel and real itsy-poo.He was right. Seeing things distorted. More

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