"It adds up to an unusual girl these days," Helen had remarked."I wish I had some time to look at those paintings. Some were his and some were hers, y...u know. You can tell from a painting how the artist sees things. The better his technique, the easier it is to see what he's left out. If John were to do a portrait of me, I could tell how he sees me by what he's discarded."Helen had looked at me and smiled."It's true, Sis," I had insisted. "When you look at yourself in the mirror, you see an. I fell forward on my hands and cried in pain. The monster cock was ripping my ass apart.Seconds turned to minutes and the black man just kept going and enjoying. I had caught my breath and had stopped crying. I was resigned to be ****d in my ass, but wanting it over quickly. The bastard could seem to be a fucking machine, no signs of tiredness after half an hour pumping.The truth was I had never been with a man with such stamina. My regular lovers had been always close to the point of premature. More

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