"I'm sure your honey pot will get plenty of action tonight, but right now," he aligned himself with her narrower opening, "I'm playing proctologist."K...thy bit into the clubhouse's thick shag carpet as the meaty invader sent shock waves of ripping white agony through her body. She could feel his weight press the air out of her as he rested his weight against her back and pumped rhythmically against her hips. She tried to kick and claw her way to freedom but unseen hands quickly pinned her arms. Finally, a handkerchief was extended from one of the SUV’s in the middle of their group.I shouted out, “If you want to surrender, drop all weapons and stand outside your vehicles with your hands up. Anyone failing to follow those instructions will be killed. Once you do that, we will talk.”From all the vehicles, men exited with no rifles and their hands up. Sharon said, “There’s some trying to trick you, Dad.”Misty responded, “Shoot ‘em, Sharon.”We heard rifle fire from her area. None of the. I don’t – definitely don’t – remember Ed nor I using a brown towel. Odd, too, is that it was stuffed down into the hamper a bit. We usually don’t stuff anything.I pulled the towel out, holding it. The evidence was right there. Dried. I know what a wet spot looks like when it dries on a towel. After all, Ed and I have run that experiment a bunch of times.So, then the question is who might’ve used our house for a tryst.I can write off Terri and Jerry.Nobody else but... I put the wash on, headed. Always together. Me, Steven and the person who called me, Greg.Hopefully you read my other story (completely true by the way!) about how Steven basically seduced me into being with him, going down on my friend I had known for years. Becoming more than just friends as he repeatedly had me suck his large cock, over and over, making me, for lack of a better tern, his fuck slave. Once he told me how he felt, oh, the things he did to me I still remember to this day. His long pink shaft sliding in.
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