He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls a tube from the top drawer. I take the tube from him and smear some of the contents along the length of his cock. He sets the tube back on the nightstand and positions himself at the entrance to my hole. I feel him lift my legs and place them on his shoulders. I feel the pressure as he pushes at my asshole trying to gain entry. A brief flash of pain, a grimace, and he sinks into to me like he was made for me. I feel so full. He buries himself in me. "Twenty-four was a pleasant enough woman, with prominent breasts and an unusually large mons, even when shaven, and the Emir was reminded of his earlier thought, 'Her face is not her fortune.' Her sponsor, Usman Abu al-Abbas apparently favoured the dress worn in the old Emir's harem. A sleeveless brocade waistcoat, in the style of a western bolero which did not meet across the breasts but left them visible at each swing as she walked, complemented by loose chiffon trousers of pale pink, but all. "Did you tell your mom what happened? I had half a mind to call her but I figured I'd gotten my point across and we'd leave it between us. Is that why you're here?" "NO!" I nearly shouted. Then with very uncharacteristic courage and in a much smaller voice "...yes" "Come on in. I made some iced tea." He turned and headed for the sliding back doors. I considered for a moment just jumping on my bike and taking off but instead I followed. The central air was cool and refreshing on a humid late. And then to hear the comments: ‘Sure smells good,’ ‘Wow, it’s still hot,’ and ‘Oh boy pepperoni (or sausage, or cheese or, etc, etc) I love pepperoni.’ Tip or no tip Harry always walked back to his van smiling and ready to deliver another pizza. One day he might tell you it was the people that made him the happiest, other times he’d say it was the aroma of the pizza that permeated his van, or maybe it was just the warmth created by the little heating boxes that plugged into the cigarette.
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