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He couldn’t stop them. They each took a turn in his mouth gagging him with their deep thrusts into his throat. All he could do was open up wider and try and relax himself as they all raped his mouth.The first guy to blow his load into John’s throat was Arnie. He sent a few squirts in then pulled out and grabbed John by the hair and shot the rest of it into his face. The salty discharge went right into his left eye and some of it even went up his nose. It was disgusting. They spent a good thirty minutes skull fucking him and they documented every bit of it for posterity on camera. Then Willie had himself another idea.Willie: “Yo dis motherfucker still got dat little hard on. I think we should give him some dick in the ass too!”Arnie: “I bet dat’s just what dis motherfucker wants. Ain’t dat right white boy? You hankerin’ for some black nut in yo ass? Yeah dat’s what all you motherfucking racists want!”John didn’t answer him. He couldn’t, not with four inches of King’s cock in his. Actually, it looked like she wanted to go right towards it and get it straight."Hey, I'm not sure if it was me who kissed you and not the other way around," I said. Now I was the one who tried to squirm away. I felt a bit like a coward for doing so."And if it was you, then what would be your excuse?" I continued, "maybe it was you who was unsatisfied. Maybe it's you who has a boyfriend who hadn't done his job, so you just wanted someone, no matter who?" First of all, I don't have a boyfriend. I have never had," she answered, "and second, I'm still completely a virgin, so I wouldn't even know what it means to be satisfied by someone." Oh," I was able to say. I felt slightly shocked for the sudden knowledge of all that, mainly because I was surprised that she told me those things without any hesitation."But that's not a bad thing," I said finally."I didn't say it was," she said, looking at me with a smart-ass expression on her face, "I haven't been able to get the right kind of man and.
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Still holding the letter, her arms had dropped to her sides and her usually virile posture, slouched. She wasn’t really thinking about anything now, just staring blankly into the mist. Some feeling returned to her stomach in the form of a churning, sickening feeling, and her eyes had started to well with tears. There was an overwhelming weakness and she had to sit down, but she wasn’t sure if she should to go to the toilet first. The flight of stairs leading to the bathroom made the decision for her – she was too weak to make it and besides, she couldn’t care if she’d pissed herself right there by the window, not now. She dragged herself over to the sofa where she’d, earlier, pleasured herself through memory. Now, there was no pleasure, and no memory of pleasure. She dared to look at the letter again, hoping what she’d seen might be gone. Her chin quivered, and the tears that had welled broke free from her eyes. She quickly stuffed the letter down the side of the sofa as if hiding it.

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