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...I found myself getting extremely aroused. Why? But who was this guy? And how did he know me? Not to mention get my email address. Now this really bugged me, and aroused me just wondering about the whole scenario. But it also scared me a little. I replied to the email with a simple Who the hell are you? and What do you want? Two days later I recieved another email that just simply said We will talk little lady. You will come to know me well. Be patient. I replied with "No, you arrogant S.O.B.. I don't think we will. I don't know you and furthermore I don't want to. So, Good-Bye,and Good riddance" I recieved one back with a pic and the simple statement "Recognize me now pet" We have met, and will so again. Shocked I just simply thought ..The guy at the bar, and he is a Dom, I am so screwed. But then I braced up,took a deep breath and thought But so what, no big deal..So he's a Dom. Nothing I can't handle. Part 2..I continued to get emails for the next few. Then he started a slow, rhythmic in and out motion, with every inward thrust just a little bit harder than the last one.I looked down at Sharon. She was looking up at me. She was enjoying her ride, but seemed to understand my fascination with watching my wife, Jess, fucking her husband, Bill. Being in her pussy felt wonderful, such a tight fit. As I began to pull back out for the next stroke, Sharon grabbed my cock, pulled it all the way out, then guided it into her ass. I welcomed this move all the more, and I seemed to get harder still. Once fully inside, I picked up my pace, intent on shooting another load of cum into her sweet ass.When I turned my attention back to Jess and Bill, the pace of Bill’s thrusts had increased to where he was now pounding Jess’ pussy hard, to the balls, then pulling out to just before the tip. Twelve inches of thick, black cock rammed into her with every stroke. Jess was now much more verbal, and her moans of pleasure louder than I’ve ever heard with.
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Was born. That made him nine. The boy looked lost and Joel looked like he was going to have a breakdown. His face was horror-struck. Like he’d just seen someone brutally murdered with a pickaxe. ‘Well ya’ll are darn rude.’ Caroline said with a flick of her short ginger curls. ‘Say hello why don’t cha’?’ ‘Hello Dillon.’ Said Benjamin, monotone. He said everything in monotone. In fact, he WAS monotone. Average height, average build, average brown hair and those Holt brown eyes, not ugly but not overly attractive. Nothing remarkable. I had always wondered how he’d won a wife as fiery and outspoken as Caroline. Maybe he was more impressive in bed. ‘Dillon.’ Greeted Jeremy. Joel’s dad also went by Mr. Holt or Jerry. Surprisingly when I heard the name Holt I didn’t think of Joel, I thought of Jerry, a hard working family man, who loved his wife, Country and day-to-day life. He was the older version of Ben. Face wrinkled from the sun, hands rough and scarred from work, with all the mild.

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