We talked for 15 or 20 minutes. All during the conversation I was mentally arguing with myself. Should I offer him a blowjob? No, it’s too dangerous... picking up a stranger. But I want to try a black cock. Do I really? I think so. But maybe he has a loathsome disease. But he’s married so he’s probably clean. Maybe he’s an axe murderer. That’s ridiculous. He’s obviously well educated. It’s still dangerous. But I might not get another chance. On and on, back and forth. Finally I opened my mouth and. As the evening wore on we had both relaxed sufficiently to be able to tell each other of our general likes and dislikes of all manner of things and the time was approaching for us to say good night. It was now that Sam offered me a lift home as neither of us where drunk and as he kindly offered it would have been rude to refuse. On reaching his car and sinking into very luxurious leather upholstery Sam asked if I minded him making a short detour to a friend’s house with whom he needed to drop. Inside the padded manilla shipping envelope were two items.The first was an antique leather-bound journal with a worn strap holding its covers shut, the second was a heavy envelope with my name, Melissa Gordon, written on it in neat (if old-fashioned) cursive hand. The letter inside was typed on expensive heavy-weight paper that had the company watermark in the center of the page. The letter explained that the law firm had been retained by a small, independent museum to find and return the. My big fantasy now was to impregnate every woman I raped. Well how do you make sure the woman you want to fuck and impregnate is fertile? How do you know you're not risking everything for a woman who's on the Pill?It's impossible. I've read plenty of those online stories where the heroine gets knocked up so easily. This is not so in real life. It was a puzzle I was determined to solve.Despite being a high school dropout I consider myself pretty smart. If I'd completed high school and gone on to.