“My god, you’ve got a gorgeous arse!” he whispered in my ear. I just groaned; I just wanted him to have me. I loved the idea of this hunk losing...himself inside my body.He began thrusting, in and out, in and out, in and out. He was a well-built guy and his organ was equally “well-built” – probably about 8 inches but I didn’t have my tape-measure handy at the time! He was almost pulling out completely, before thrusting back into me each time, repeatedly pushing against that hardened node inside. “What?”“The race of the man. His skin color. What was the race of the man who did this to you?”Laurie flushed. “I don’t—I mean—I don’t know what difference that makes . . . .?”Georgetta smiled understandingly. “Laurie. It’s okay. I’m black. You’re white. It’s okay that you’re white, and it’s okay that I’m black. But these things matter. The race of the man matters, because it was part of the experience of what happened to you, just as his scent matters, his accent matters, his breath matters,. More

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