I wondered what Anton would be, large hands and tattoos, and how many bodies have his hands roamed over.I suddenly felt even plainer, acutely aware of... all my insecurities and deficiencies. Sensing I was no longer there, Anton pulled my chin up. Holding my gaze, he slowly lowered his head, murmuring, “Statuesque,” before his lips wrapped around my nipple over the thick material. The breath caught in my throat and I grabbed his biceps for support, my back arching in an attempt to give him more. “Ride my dick until I cum," he demanded, smacking my ass before squeezing my tits with both hands. I put my knees on the step where he sat. I leaned forward, placing my hands on the step behind him, and started working my hips, going up and down his shaft. My big wet tits bounced up and down, brushing against his face as I slid my pussy up and down his big black dick. “Your dick is so fucking hard!, I moaned, as I rode his massive cock. I sat all the way down on him, taking every inch deep. Perhaps it should be ‘The journal of Eleanor Risby.’ I believe that’s what people call them - not that I would know what others think. Ever since I ceased working, I never mix. But, there I go again, wandering from the point. I must try hard to control myself and keep to the subject.I’ve never written a diary, even when I was a child. Mind you, nothing ever happened in my infancy, at least nothing worth writing about. When I was three my parents were killed in the car accident and from then I. ‘See?’ he thought, ‘she wants it. They all scream and protest, you know, but they love it, they love my cock, the fucking teases.’ He forced his knee between her thighs, pushing up her short, slutty skirt as he tore his zipper down. When his raging cock slid past her thong into her tight cunt it quickened her sobs into panting gasps. He closed her mouth with his hand and pushed.Ethan McAllister had an urge. He’d always had it, ever since he turned fourteen. It was a hunger, an always present.