“Rice, pasta or potatoes?”Such a mundane question after the morning we’d had was calming – reassuring, in a way. “Don’t mind. You know wha...t spices went into it.”She nodded. “Pasta, then. Spaghetti, fusilli, linguine?”I remembered a humorous story about a visit to a very upmarket hotel and smiled. “Spaghetti, I think, please.”“Good.” She set about boiling a pan of water and measured out spaghetti.“What about Karen?”“Hmm?”“Karen.”“Oh – Karen. She has a school dinner. She won’t want more than a. My next fort was to be a wide and deep arroyo about 1,000 yards away from the trees. Once I made it there, I figured to be able to fight off anything the Comanches could throw at me.The Indian celebration started at noon, so I was grateful for the sandwiches that my wives had packed for me. I nibbled on those while I waited for the Indians to start their get-together. Some elderly Comanche in the biggest war bonnet I had ever seen was escorted to the place of honor and seated with much. She continued to ride me unabated and the agonising pleasure that engulfed the tip of my dick made me grind me teeth. Thankfully, my dick remained as hard as iron. My hips bucked up uncontrollably while my hands fondled her breasts. We rolled onto our sides facing each other, her left leg raised a little higher and supported by my right hand while I plunged my dick into her mercilessly. Her moans were that of a siren song leading me blindly by my dick and trying desperately to devour each and. You have toconcentrate the whole time. You can't let up for an instant." I can do that. I promise, I really can. I can do much more than youknow!" You felt you needed to convince her. You were trying to controlyourself, but it was getting harder and harder. You were filled withemotion."I'm sorry, but I don't think you can. You could be driving along onthe highway and your thoughts can wander. I've seen this many times.Then you'll get into an accident and hurt yourself."Mom continued to.