riley mae

“That’s easy,” I replied. “You telegraph what feels good. I just do it again. You don’t exactly have a poker pussy. I love feeling you cum when I lick you.”

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.

I stood up straight and moved closer. Carol’s legs were pointing straight up, the green stiletto heels by my ears, pointing towards the ceiling. Carol reached between her legs and placed my cock at the entrance to her pussy. “Push! Just push it in!” We were watching each other’s faces to see the reaction—me reacting to my first pussy, her reacting to having her pussy stretched. Truthfully, my cock is pretty average length, six inches on a good day. But I have since learned it is pretty thick. Carol’s eyes widened at I entered her, my balls slapping against her taint. I didn’t see any more reaction as I closed my eyes as I felt my dick swallowed by warm wet tight pussy for the very first time. If I hadn’t cum an hour earlier, I would have blown my load right then on the first stroke (as I did with more than a couple girlfriends soon after).