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What Really Happened…
An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle
This couldn’t really be fucking happening, he told himself even as he moved in closer, his large, hungry cock bobbing its approval every inch of the way. He wasn’t sure if this was a dream, another fantasy to keep him going during another boring day at work or if after all this time, he’d finally grown a pair and was finally taking what was his.
Whatever it was, he really didn’t give a flying fuck, not as long as he could still savor her on his tongue. Just thinking about that sweet flavor had him licking his lips as he leaned in for another swipe of her pussy. He closed his eyes, ran the tip of his tongue through her pussy and groaned wildly when that sweet flavor that he was sure that he’d imagined, coated his tongue and made him desperate for more.
She tasted so fucking good, better than he could have ever imagined, and he’d imagined about it constantly, night and day, but nothing could have prepared him for just how sweet she really tasted. God, he could happily lick her pussy out all day, he thought even as he noted just how soft her pussy lips really were. He could just imagined how soft her lips would feel cupped in his hand, pressed against his chin as she rode his mouth, or supported his balls as he slid inside her.
He ran his tongue over her clit and nearly came from the needy little moan that she made. He loved doing this to her, never wanted to stop, but he knew that she’d eventually realize what he was doing and kick his ass or he’d reach the end of his rope, move up his body, pray that she didn’t break his fucking nose, and finally slide inside of her, too damn weak to put it off any longer.
“Oh, God…..Oh, God….Oh, Dar-!” she began to scream his name when the unthinkable happened.
“I have an order of Blackjack’s Pizza!” some poor, soon-to-be-dead son of a bitch announced from their front door.
To be continued…
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