A tall, broad-shouldered and dark-skinned, sexy brother clad in a black leather jacket, bright red silk shirt, blue jeans and boots. He noticed me not...cing him, and smiled. He walked over to me, and in accented Somali, he asked me if I had seen the bus go by. I coyly told him that I missed the last one. He looked at the seat next to mine and asked me whether he could sit down. I nodded, and he plopped down next to me. I asked him where he was from, and he told me that he grew up in the City of. “I haven’t seen you in the building before. Did you just move in?”“Oh no, I am just visiting the area for business and also taking advantage of what the area has to offer. I am staying in Jim Stanford’s condo. He insisted I do so and treats me like his second son. My name is Mark Scales.”“I know Jim and his wife. We play bridge together when they are here. They are good people.”“Yes they are.”The elevator came to a stop on the seventh floor and they walked to her condo with her leading. This. The other, smaller vine suckled her clit in perfect time with each thrust, and her legs jerked once in a while as she fell deeper and deeper into ecstasy.She could feel another orgasm building already. The flower sensed her getting closer and closer, and sped up a little more. Harder, too, and faster, until it was properly fucking her, like some sort of first-class pornstar on an entire bottle of Viagra. She was fighting not to scream now - noticing this, the flower wrapped a vine around her. She was a hippy type gal with no flare for dramatics or pretenses. I loved her curves and big jiggly tits right away. She had a rather large hour glass shape with big thick legs. It all started after my wife experienced endometriosis. The pain she felt was so bad it made her cry. We went for months without having sex. I decided to go see Margaret. That was a pretty bold move that could have gotten me fired had it backfired. But she let me into her house and we talked. I remember her nipples.
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