I could taste ass. I could taste his sweat. I could smell his pubes as he started going deeper into my mouth. "Ya that's how come God made you my bitc... boi. No gag reflex. Too bad, I like it when my bitches struggle." Every word he said was a dagger to me. 'My bitches'? How many times had he done this? When was it going to stop?... This went on for what felt like hours, even though I'm sure it was much less. My jaw started to ache, my throat felt sore and scratchy from his big cock pressed in. Mike re-read those lines repeatedly to understand how she could think like this.In her second letter Maria explained how she had known he was the one from the moment they met. She had argued with her cousin at the barbecue and asked Mike to take her home simply because there was no-one else and he looked trustworthy. She had a sixth sense about people. She had needed to talk to someone, and Mike had been so kind. It had embarrassed her when she’d started crying, and the way he’d driven around. More

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