brooke elizabeth mathieson

Maybe you and I do deserve to suffer for our wrongdoing. If that’s so, then it means that when things get painful, when things get difficult, we don’t have the luxury of quitting. We don’t get to end our lives to escape what we did. Whatever form the pain takes, we bear it, we endure it, we welcome it, all while we try to make this world a place where people like us, like how we used to be, have no place, and the people who would be hurt can instead live in peace. The next time you encounter an obstacle you cannot overcome, when you just want to curl up into a ball and quit on the world, remind yourself that you don’t deserve the peace of surrender. You have to keep working, to keep fighting, to keep suffering, until the day when you’ve fully repented.

Her heartbeat raced wildly, and her breathing came hard through her nose as she sat there in silence with her lips wrapped around her father’s dick waiting for his orgasm to end. The cum had pooled at the bottom of her mouth, like a lake of magma that jiggled with each ragged breath. She dropped her tongue into it and lifted, letting it drip off the sides of her tongue. Finally, her father began to soften in her mouth, and she felt safe pulling away. She squeezed the head with her lips, making sure not to let a drop escape and with a final jerk his semi-flaccid penis slipped out, bouncing off her chin and back onto his thigh.

“Good. We have to keep it that way.” Carol smiled at me slyly. “Want to see how okay I am with everything?”“Uh, sure.”“Lift up my dress. Feel my ass.” I did as I was told. No panties. “See? I did as I was told.”“Not quite. I said I had to see your cunt.”