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Every roll of her hips caused new pain to shoot through her, and Donna's sweating, straining ass wasn't even really being fucked yet. She was just holding the massive cock inside her."Baby, if you call that fucking, you must be fucking all little boys," Bud groused, and he yanked his cigar from his mouth and threw it away into the darkness of the bathroom. "Fucking means stabbing--you on me and me in you!"He began to prove his point.Donna knew the meaning of true terror as soon as she heard Bud intone those words. She also learned the true meaning of pain as he turned words into action. His fingers digging like hot steel bands into her hips, Bud jerked almost all the way out with one quick flick of his hips, and then fucked all eleven inches back in just as fast."Noooo!" Donna squealed around the prick in her mouth. "You're killing me!" Fucking right," Bud laughed, fucking into her again, even harder than the first time. "Killing you with pleasure."It was a realm of pure physical. .."Tracy recoiled from her friend. The look in her eyes was downright disturbing. In an effort to please, she began retelling the story that her friend should know by heart. "You and me, we were whoring ourselves out on that website you started up, 'member? You were always so good with that sort of thing. You always handled the money and I called you my accountant. Anyhow, Dean was my best client. He must've dropped, omigawd, $10,000 on my holes! Then I got knocked up and you narrowed who the father must be to Dean and some other dude."Things were beginning to slide into place in Kim's head. The other pasts, especially the disturbingly lonely one where she worked in some kind of office, began to fade from her mind.Encouraged by the improved look on Kim's face, Tracy continued. "So we convinced him it was his and told him he had to take responsibility for it. Ringin' a bell, sugar? He was half in love with me anyway and you said that he had to marry me now or we'd tell everybody about.
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The sites near the office hadpower, water, and sometime sewage outlets, and most had expensive-looking trailers parked on them. At the back it was campers only, oronly tents, which is all we had. That is how Dad did it in the olddays, so that was how we were going to do it. Sheesh.As soon as the van stopped, Mark and Paul shot out of the van andstarted running off. Mom yelled that they had to unpack, but thatdidn't do anything, so guess who had to unpack. And help Dad with thetents. Ricky suggested that they leave the boys' tent for them to putup, but in the end they set up all three tents. The big one was for Momand Dad, and cooking and eating in if it rained. There were two smallerpup tents for Ricky and the boys. Ricky managed to cop the best spot onthe site, away from the big tent. Mark's tent was right next to hisparents.Once the big tent was up, Dad set up the propane grill. Not one of thebig ones like you have in your backyard, but a little green thing thatfolded out. Mom used.

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