The club idea was beginning to grow from a humorous illusion to an actual desire. I decided that someday I would make it a point to find one that big, even if I had to open my legs beneath a burrow and let hi mbury his gigantic article in me till it reached my throat. The thought of jazzing a burrow was another one of my ideas of humor. At that time I thought such a union was impossible… but it wasn't long before I learned how populaar it really was.
As I understand it, that is, the only way a forty-yearold whore can be appeased sexually.
Really 1 couldn't very well blame Roland for shining that want-to-jazz-you light in his eyes. The way Aunt Stella was clad was sufficient to warrant this desire. She wore a transparent kimona which daringly revealed every feature, including her attractive mossy patch… only this prevented Roland from seeing the happy lips of her I4ove-the-pricks cunnie.
If I were ‹tp depart from the scene they would have, no doubt, indulged in eac hother's charms.
Anyhow they both looked as though they could enjoy fucking each other, then and there. I was alert to this possible situation… I was selfish, I wanted every drop of Roland's sperm, therefore I rushed my seducer from the house under the pretense that the hour was late and that we were both in need of a rfreshing sleep. He was not at all pleased because he entertained his desire for auntie's coozie, but he moved toward the door hesitantly.
I was truly ashamed of myself for not letting him spend in Stell's, Roland's-dick-wanting, part in her legs but, as I have written, I wanted every jazz that my lover was able to perform.
After kissing Roland good night in Stell's presence … incidentally this embrace even made my aunt hot… I began to relate to her my adventures in the realms of unchasteness… and were they unchaste!
By the time I had reached the end of my tale we were both so cunt-steaming that we were compelled to finger-screw each other twice before we were able to doze into a, dreaming-of-prick-all-night, sleep.