He reminded me of a bookkeeper from a Charles Dickens novel, sitting at his tall desk and scrutinizing the figures, except in this case the figure was... mine.As he looked me over, I sensed admiration mixed with apprehension, a fear of missing something better. I found myself ambivalent as to whether I wanted him to choose me or not. I sensed he felt that he might find someone better. Sure enough, he left thinking that he could always come back, if nothing better materialized.Genghis Khan was. He put his hands on the bed at my sides and lowered himself onto me. I felt his thick cock rubbing up and down my crack.Suddenly he stopped and I felt him oiling my hole. Her then started to rub his nob around my rim. I was getting really aroused when I felt him pushing into me. It was mildly painful to start with, but as he moved in and out thrusting deep into me the sensation was not quite one of burning but one of warm pleasure.His cock began to pulse and, as he thrust and spurted. His name was the improbable Emerson L. Palmer, and people of a certain age always asked if his middle name was Lake. His deadpan reply was "No, it's Lewis." We just called him 'Em'. He was a major in the Army.As if on cue I heard a soft feminine voice call out my name."Bill, is that you?" It was Crissy Palmer."Shit", I thought, I'm busted. I knew she couldn't see me in the dark, but she'd heard the ruckus and might call the cops if she thought there was a prowler. I knew I couldn't slink away. Tobu o cholo cheshta kori. Ami boudi r upor uthe paa duita faak kore dhorlam erpor amar dhon ta guud r shathe ghoshte shuru korlam r boudi r maal ber howa shuru korlo,boudi ohh ooohhhh kore uthlo. Amar dhon ta pura maal e vije gelo. Ami erpor aste aste dhonta ke guud r hole er moddhe set korlam & ektu chap dilam. Boudi shathe shathe onek betha plz aste bole bed sheet ke dui haat diye khamchi mere dhorlo r chokh diye jol ber hoye gelo. Amar shudhu mundu ta guuder deuwal chire bhetore giye chilo..