I could hear him yelling out to suck it, but I fought him. He held my head tightly in front of him impaling his dick in my mouth pushing it against th...e back of my throat. It felt like it was growing and lengthening in my mouth. I could feel his cock quivering in my mouth. I knew from fucking my pussy and now my mouth he had to be close to coming. I tried again to pull my head away but couldn't move it."He made one final stab deep into my mouth and held his cock in place. I didn't know what to. This went on until Wendy came first with Aashi quickly following. Now the action began to get intense with each pressing their tongues and lips against the other's pussy harder and harder. They were so fucking excited and I was jerking harder too. As they were pussy-diving they were also cramming fingers into the other's ass hole. I could hardly keep from coming, but I had to if I wanted some action later.Finally, I think they exhausted each other and just fell apart. They rested like that for. Instead, I was aborted by my own mother, your ex-wife, Melanie Hatch. Your mother, my grandmother, was named Emmanuelle Marie-Louise Duchamp, in Port-Au-Prince, Haiti. I know that much. She married Reverend Andrew Hatch, converted to Protestant, Baptist Christianity instead of voodoo, but you returned to her faith, rejecting your father’s ... my grandfather’s.“I completely understand why, too. Voodoo, Santeria, these ways are the ways of our forefathers, from back before they were seized in. Dainty little things, slender legs, muscles that ripple and bunch as she moves, knees that knock only slightly with every step and skin... bronzed skin, that gleams with a lustre stolen from the sun, glides over her body as it tries to contain all that she is in that instant. Midnight tresses, shimmering and silken, dance about her jaw as the wind picks it up and runs it through his teasing fingers, snatching it back from her brow one moment only to throw it forward the next, flicking it up.