I had on a pair of denim cutoffs and I tied a plastic store bag with some extra tackle on one of my belt loops, pushing my spinning rod into one back ...ocket and carrying my casting rod in my hands.I could feel every eye on me as I walked down to the river and started wading upstream. I guess they had never seen a black woman before. Maybe they didn’t think I was smart enough to be fishing. Several men made comments under their breath. I waded across the stream and made my first cast. There was. “We can skip the blow job,” I said.“No way,” she quickly shot back, as she squatted down between my spread legs. She fumbled at the opening to my pants, feeling for my manhood. In an instant, she had found what she was fishing for, pulling my eight-inch steel rod out from the confines of my trousers and my bikini briefs.She planted a light kiss on the end of my cock and then slowly and methodically ran her tongue around the greyish bulb end of my tool. She had a firm grip on the shaft and she. More

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