He calls me Lauren, honey, girl, sweetie and woman. He makes me wear dresses, makeup and perfume all the time. He takes me out to restaurants and bars... then tries to make me pickup strange men and have sex with them but I won't do it. I'm not a queer. I don't want a man touching me there, not ever." Lauren collapsed into the tears she had been fighting for nearly half an hour. Dave let her sob for a minute then moved to the couch and touched her shoulder. The woman wrapped her arms around Dave. He was a big Marine and she was a sweet petite beauty. He was lucky to have her and he never let her forget it, at least not in public. They were always touching and showing discreet affection towards one another. It was cute, even to an old fart like me. It always made me remember how my first marriage had been, before.The KJ was setting up his station and putting out the books, song slips, and pencils. He stopped by to say hello and we talked about his other hobby which was polishing stones. She violently slammed that sweet pussy into my mouth, I increased the fucking of her pussy and ass with both my hands and vowed to myself to hang onto her clit until she was finished cumming or I was dead, whichever came first! All this was such a total orgasmic turn on I came, too, Her mouth didn’t miss a drop of my cum, as far as I could tell. She was still sucking me when she passed out from the sensory overload.I withdrew my fingers from her pussy and ass, and reached for her chest to be. "I have the power of so doing," said Monte Cristo. The major recovered his self-possession. "So, then," said he, "the letter was true to the end?" Did you doubt it, my dear Monsieur Bartolomeo?" No, indeed; certainly not; a good man, a man holding religious office, as does the Abbe Busoni, could not condescend to deceive or play off a joke; but your excellency has not read all." Ah, true," said Monte Cristo "there is a postscript." Yes, yes," repeated the major, "yes--there--is--a--postscript.".