Was this what sex was like? If so, I was LOVING it. I wanted his cock in me. You still want me to fuck you? he asked. yes, I want you to fuck me. I re...lied. I was on the verge of begging him to fuck me! Its going to hurt. I have a big dick. He warned me. I want you to fuck me. I whined. I was again flat on my stomach, my head on the pillow. He squeezed the warm Baby Oil onto my very tight, virgin hole and with that same middle finger began to fuck me slowly. I grew accustomed to his finger. Thirty four years old and living alone, married to a career as a journalist, how depressing. By day she busted politicians asses. By night Rachel wrote erotica. Or dreamed of unknown lovers-lover, she corrected herself silently. He felt so damn real. It wasn’t fair. she agonized, practically tasting him, smelling him, feeling his fingers playing along her skin. She wandered through the living room, bee-lining for her computer. Maybe being dateless for so long was taking its toll. Passing the. More

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