Seventy-four. Right before my fiftieth birthday. I celebrated my half-century standing beside her fresh grave. She’d looked so worn and tired before...that surgery. Too tired to come out of it, apparently. The woman leaning over me looked tired, too. I wondered if I was the reason.There was something else, though, besides her being younger than I remembered last. I didn’t remember her ever wearing her hair curled up like a French poodle on top of her head. And she was wearing makeup. Back in. As she reached for the door, she looked over at the stall. There stood Jamal, his fully erect cock in hand, his muscled physique glistening with sweat."You goin somewhere bitch?"Rachel was so scared, she could only meekly shake her head."Good, because I got a few more loads I need to shoot into you," he said through a thick grin, as he quickly walked over to Rachel, who let out a meek protest. Jamal pushed her hand aside, then grabbed her face. He stuck his tongue down her throat and squeezed. More

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