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I broke the kiss and glared at her. “You are a very dirty girl, aren’t you, Maia?”A coy grin formed on her lips as she nodded. “Kiss me right ...nd I’ll be as dirty as you want me to be. I’ll be your cinnamon whore, Gil,” she purred.I squeezed her throat tighter and lifted her on to her toes. Maia clawed at my throbbing cock. She thrust her hips forward in a desperate attempt to drive her dripping pussy against my leg. Hoping the contact would provide relief from the itchy fire that was burning. By the time she had gutted her meat girl, the other two women were pushingtheir spitting poles into the body cavities of their dolcettes. Monica spedthings up and appeared to be catching up. She had her spit pole entering thebody cavity of her meat girl, as Kim and then Samantha pushed the pointed tipsof the poles successfully out of the mouths of their meat girls, to politeapplause. A task made infinitely easier by the proviso that the body cavitiesof the meat girls did not have to be stuffed. . not that I noticed! I was a basketball player, 6'4, 200 lbs, not tall for college - but I came off the bench, aggressive defender, could shoot and contributed where I could (my avatar is real - put on about 30 lbs. since school).But this story is about what I didn't know about Rick (and vice versa) on a Thursday afternoon in 1986. We both had busy schedules - but we always had time on Thursdays to get together at his house and catch up on things. I got there at the usual - door unlocked as. The warmth of sleep soon dissipated in the chill of a spring afternoon! Replacing my shoulder holster, I secured the handgun, and stooped to extract some food, water, and my alcohol stove from my pack.Emily had awakened, likely from my scuffing through the leaves and whatnot. She crawled to the edge of the hootch, peeking at me from the blanket draped over her head, hood like. “If you’d warm up my clothes, and pass them over here, I could get dressed in comfort. Then I could help you with.
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