Tell me that you want my cock, mommy"She pulled her mouth off my dick for a minute and looked up at me. "I'm turned on, baby. But I don't know if that...means that I want you. It's just so wrong. We shouldn't be doing this." Stop thinking," I said, grabbing the back of her head again, "and just pleasure your little boy." I forced her head into my crotch again and her lipstick-clad lips took hold of my prick. She didn't relent or complain again. I kept my hands in place, tangled in her hair, to. Someone please wake me if there's any other way we can screw up tonight.'The bed part was excellent advice. The problem was that moving made me feel really sick. My stomach was queasy and it felt like there was a gang of rioting musicians playing poorly on purpose in my head. If this was the result of getting drunk, then why do people do it? Isn't there less sickening ways to escape life?The Hades was flying smoothly though the skies.Speaking of ways to escape life, I'm surprised I'm still. More

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