Bruce's tone suddenly changed and his testosterone fuelled assault softened and he began to cry. "Please, Baby. I need it. I just need you. You know I... always need you," he whimpered.However, Ella's tone only seemed to toughen, as she rejected his supplications. "Get your ass to the couch. We'll talk about this in the morning and..."Suddenly there was an awkward silence. Devon craned his neck to listen for any sign the squabble was ongoing. He heard nothing but the sound of something being. He had a hard time with "Charity" because he wasn't able to get his tongue around the "Ch" sound. Charity spent some time working with him on this going to the extent of molding his lips with her fingers to get him to form the correct position. He soon tired of it and threw her down on the hard rock floor and gave her a terrible pounding that took her mind off her language instruction efforts. Kalinda watched them for a short time but started to feel a bit jealous of their joy and moved outside. The son asks the father, “Dad, how many kinds of boobs are there?” The father, surprised, answers, “Well, son, a woman goes through three phases. In her 20s, a woman’s breasts are like melons, round and firm. In her 30s and 40s, they are like pears, still nice, hanging a bit. After 50, they are like onions.” “Onions?” the son asks. “Yes. You see them and they make you cry.” This infuriated his wife and daughter. The daughter asks, “Mom, how many different kinds of willies are there?” The mother. Without even thinking about it, I found myself humping his thigh as our tongues did an arpeggio together. ‘You’re a dangerous man, Billy,’ I panted when we finally broke our liplock. ‘You make me want to do wicked things. Wicked things.’ ‘And I don’t think you have any idea what you do to me,’ he whispered back. ‘Is that a clue?’ I said as I squeezed his cock through his jeans. ‘You betcha,’ he said and gave me that megawatt smile that would soon enthrall the world. We tumbled into my cozy.