Norman Rockwell, rest in peace, pal!As I noted, I could hear the ghosts of conversations drifting inthrough my open kitchen window as small parties of...people walkedbeneath it. I could also hear the residents of the dorm movingin and out of the hall outside my door. Partial conversations,shouts of excitement at the arrival of the weekend could be heardfading in and out as the participants in said weekend'sfestivities drifted in and out of the building or up and down theavenue.I remember wanting. Images of his giant cock pumping deep in a real pussy surfaced out of the blue, making me squirm at the fantasy.''Push it deeper,'' I ordered and his strong hips surged forward, impaling his shaft to the hilt.A tinge of pain made me tense, expecting him to pull back and thrust again, but he never did. My ass muscles massaged the invading manhood until I relaxed enough for him to continue.Martin stroked my thighs while my ankles remained wedged over his shoulders. He was gentle but the hard cock. More

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