I could feel her little, wet, tormented beaver contracting around my thigh. I pulled her over to the bed and bent her over it. I had a great view of ...er perfect ass. I put the head against her lips and teased her for a second. She reached back and spread her lips as far as she could. I stabbed deep into her. ‘Uhhhhh’, she grunted, and panted, ‘even though I know what’s coming, it still surprises me.’ I stabbed deeper again, as if to say, ‘shut up.’ She got the hint and started to fuck back. She arrived a couple of days later, her clothes and possessions packed in a green Chevy. She looked good, having lost a lot of weight. She had a nice figure and breasts that made a hungry handful. For the next couple of days we didn't do much more than talk and catch up on family gossip. She slept a lot, resting from her travails. Apparently her husband was an abuser, not that such news surprised me. Since I lived in that part of the U.S. where our family had the deepest roots I offered to give. More

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