It was seven strokes—I counted—but it seemed much longer to me. Each time he withdrew, my inner walls collapsed in gratitude, only to be stretched...again by the driving force of John’s hips. I jerked in surprise when his seed spilled into me, and I gripped his shoulders tightly as he shuddered violently. Spent, he rolled off of me, panting heavily, hair tousled and eyes closed. We didn’t speak for a long time. I didn’t know how to react. I was stunned. I felt as though I’d been invaded, as. Liked to pretend he wasa dominant black man. Like his father. He'd stick his tongue in mymouth, squeeze my tits, and throw me down on the bed. I really likedthat game. I liked it when he looked me in the eyes and told me that heowned me and he could do whatever he wanted to me... then he'dejaculate in my face and make me lick the cum off his fingers..."That's right, honey, lick it all up..." he'd growl in a baritone.Then afterwards he'd feel bad, he'd be remorseful, his voice wouldchange, get. More

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