My puffy hole didn't need anything gentle. I mean, fuck, it just had a double-ended dong slammed into it. She started fisting away, using the duck to ...tart with, but she soon started punch-fisting me like I was her puppet. I would try to wriggle away, I tried to grab her wrist, but she just kept fisting me. I watched this (kind of, as I was too lost in my own bodily torment), arse in the air, face turned towards the wardrobe and I remember, as she pulled out, she made her hand as big as. Bradford and she lived here. I asked if she lived by herself and she looked a little sad and answered that she had for the last eight years since her husband had died – just her and the black cat, Oliver. She asked if I would like to pet Oliver and when I did, he purred and rubbed against my ankles. I liked him immediately. Finally I thanked her again and started to leave. She asked me to come back next Halloween and I promised I would. Then I headed back to the car. Next year when Halloween. More

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