I got to my hotel, entered the room and put the stuff on the bed. I ripped my clothes off and had a shower. Then I put on the stockings, teddy and sli...ped on my new panties. Nearly ready. I had bought some gear so I skinned up and thought I would smoke it before I opened the mag.Then the moment arrived. I hoped there would be pictures of hard-ons. Little did I know what I was in for. I took a deep breath and opened it up. The first page was the contents and underneath the words was a picture of. It's better. It's real love!"Tracey sighed. She kissed Buttercup full on the mouth and soon again they were writhing and caressing together in the discomfort of the grass and straw which composed their mattress, but however much she was sure her tongue was giving Buttercup pleasure, she somehow didn't feel worthy of her lover. How could someone like her, someone who was used to being called a slut, whose cunt had taken in every prick it could, be worthy of someone so absurdly beautiful and so. My legs were spread wide and his nice long rod was hitting just the right spot on my prostate with each downward plunge into my tight hot hole. I could tell that he wanted me as bad as he had ever wanted anyone -- he wanted so bad to cum. So did I.It happened so suddenly that at first I didn't realize what had occurred. But the warm salty taste of my cum on my lips made me know that my body had reacted to his love making. I usually cum quite a bit, but almost never squirt more than a few inches. I especially recall the time I was "lured" into the woods by Steve Bradley and his pals. They thought they were leading a lamb to slaughter, but I couldn't wait to get to the small clearing they had chosen. I could FEEL my cunt moistening, my tits swelling in anticipation of what was about to be done to me.When they started "r****g" me, I played along, of course, faking tears like a Hollywood actress and screaming "No!" and "Please stop!" as they pumped their rigid, pulsing, engorged cocks in.
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