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There was a tall, thin black guy in a white t-shirt, sort of a basketball player looking guy. I saw him in the dark room and reached for his groin. Sure enough, his dick was out and was exactly what I expected. It was very black, thick and long, and fleshy. I gave him some head but he didn’t get rock hard before he moved on, as I apparently wasn’t offering what he came for.I haven’t fucked for a while and likely would have fucked the football player and soft hands guys if the equipment would have cooperated. Maybe there is guiding hand involved here, as the guys at these places that are so open to anonymous sex are likely positive, and in the heat of passion I might not make the safest choices.Anyway, I got off masturbating in the dark room watching all the sex going on soon thereafter. New guys were coming in that were hotter than the ones there when I first arrived, but I was out of ammo. One guy, a thin black guy (my weakness), was walking around fully naked. He had great. 'Please, God, fuck me." Instead of putting my cock into her pussy she sat back down on the top of my legs and grabbed my cock with both hands. She bent over and kissed the tip of my cock while pulling up on it, as if to take it into her mouth. "Now, if I let you into my pussy, do you promise to fuck me until I am satisfied?" she asked, addressing my manhood. "I will fuck you till the cows come home. I will fuck you until the sun comes up tomorrow. Just suck me or fuck me, NOW." I yelled. I could feel her hands around my now throbbing cock and didn't know how long I could take this teasing. "Please,,,Please," I begged, "Please.” "I'm talking to Mr. Cock, thank you very much," she stated emphatically. "If you don't do something with Mr. Cock real soon, some of his friends, my arms, legs and hands are going to help him have his way with you," I screamed helplessly. With that, she smoothly raised her hips, moved my cock a little and slid down on it in one quick motion. "Awwwwww!".
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’ He used the pipe stem as a pointer. ‘I saw the ashtray on every other desk.’ ‘Did you ask if you could smoke?’ Murphy arched a brow. ‘Did you ask if I care?’ ‘And you’re looking for a job here?’ ‘No, I’m telling you that you’re hiring me.’ So much for toning down the chutzpa, Imi Morgenstern thought. ‘Into my office. Let’s see what’s so important.’ Once they were settled, Murphy handed him a resume. Morgenstern glanced at it. ‘You’re an accountant?’ ‘That was my education, yes,’ Murphy answered. ‘However, accountants no longer have the skill sets I want. No one teaches spying in Massachusetts, unless you count the fraternities going after the sororities, or the internal intrigues of either group. After experiencing that level of stupidity, I think decapitation with a sword is far more civilized.’ Normally, the Mossad man would ask if that was a reference to Daniel Pearle, but Morgenstern wanted a way to get this conversation over with as soon as possible. ‘You’re against intrigue.

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