She let out a high pitched shriek, clamping my head in tight with her powerful thighs.I started to chew on her fleshy clitoris, coaxing another spasti... response from my luscious friend. Dixie was out of breath as she asked me to stop, pushing me away. This couldn’t be it? I thought as I slowly backed off with a quizzical look on my face, wondering what I did wrong.Dixie gave me a reassuring smile and said we should move to the bedroom. She grabbed my hand and led me into the other room where. Before I get into that though, a little background is needed.I was born on November 14th, 1972 to Desiree Johnson, a single mother who worked as a cashier at the neighborhood Walmart. We lived on the third floor of a four-story brick tenement building in Detroit. It was not a very luxurious place–it was run down, and half the time something was broken. The landlord (read slumlord) never fixed anything unless he was forced to by the city or by legal action. The place was cold in winter and hot. More

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