.When the vodka was finished I could see some effect on him..I told him I needed more to drink and eat chicken from kfc..He was on a run as if he knew... it was his lucky day…He came back with 2 bottles of vodka and lots of chicken..After finishing one more bottle together I could see him staring at my boobs..I said kya dekh rahe ho..He said thinking about the lucky guy..He was totally in mood..There was no inhibition any more..I said kritika bhi to mast maal hai to tum bhi to lucky ho…He said. Pictures of the victims hung in frames, among them was Zoey. A short epitaph read "Activist. Journalist. Fur Mom." Vargas looked away at the empathetic, photogenic, smile, and distracted herself with the beautiful dancing bodies. There were no signs in this club of bullet fire or blood. It amazed Erica how much those things could get cleaned up. If it wasn't for those photos, no one would even have to remember. Maybe it was only a matter of time before the next lonely bigot opened fire on happy. Step up, pull the curtain to the side, and take her. Sounded easy enough. And hell, according to one of her stories I'd read online, this was one of her fantasies. Stripping down to nothing, my boner springing free, I stepped forward and pulled the curtain to the side. My eyes widened a bit, and my mouth fell open. Mom wasn't there... what the hell? Mom wasn't there. Where the hell was she? As I began to turn around, she confirmed where she was. Behind me. "Bad Vinnie," Mom. I slid my mouth off her clit-dick and growled.I pulled her down by the hips. Her softening cock smacked into my large breast before she knelt before me. I kissed her hard, letting her taste the salty flavor of her own cum on my mouth. She whimpered, her tongue dueling with mine.This thrill rippled through me. This heat. This joy. I had fucked so many women, and now a few futas, but it was always this hot and passionate rutting. This felt different. The way we kissed felt sweet. I wanted this to.