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Several minutes later, Father Dott stood with her on her front porch as they said good-bye. A block down that rural road, a neighbor boy had been making his way toward Dana’s house. He hoped-upon-hope that this would be the day he would finally be able to kiss the girl of his dreams. Yet, when he was within eye-shot, he stopped because he saw Dana standing at her front door talking to a priest. The boy could have slapped himself silly! What was he thinking? How could he dare have such indecent thoughts about a girl so Fucking pure and a family so wholesome that priests regularly visited?!? He turned and walked away. Sometimes, bad timing is a good thing. Had the boy arrived minutes earlier, Dana would not have answered the door. If the boy had looked for her through her bedroom window, he would have seen the girl of his dreams eagerly performing oral sex on the erection of a man who had driven twenty miles to put his penis real amateur in her mouth. Or, had the boy arrived a minute later, the priest would have been gone and the boy would mature have knocked on Dana’s door. If she had answered, she would finally have granted his amorous request and he would have French kissed her. When the time came for him to leave, Dana would say good-bye with a giggle because she knew something that no other person on the planet would ever know: That boy who was leaving and was so proud of his success had just coated his own mouth with the semen of a local priest. [part 4 follows] I don't like being a moisture farmer. I suppose it's my age. On this planet, at least around here, most of aunty the young people are eager to get indian away before it's too late. Too late meaning that time slips by before you know it, and then one day you wake up to the fact you're not going anywhere. Then it's what? Inherit the dusty, parched plots of land that stretch away as far as the eye can see? A few sun baked buildings up top, but living under the surface just to escape the sand storms and heat? I know it's a narrow window. I thought we’d go sit down, but instead, Matt pulled me close to him to dance. She aunty closed her eyes and pictured it. This caught me off guard a bit and I rolled off her onto the floor. Oh, I-I’m so sorry. Her breasts are about the same size as mine but her nipples are a lot smaller. She knew she should say no. I’m giving myself to you!” I say to her. After all, I was nothing more than a “Cock-sucker,” a “Sissy-Faggot,” a “Worthless cum-dumpster for sperm,” and I should really “Let men use my faggot fuck-holes indian whenever they want.” Besides, “Submitting to real men makes me happy,” and, “I love sucking cocks, getting fucked, and eating cum.” It all made perfect sense, but I could never act on it. Candy pulled herself up on one of the bar stools and propped her elbows on the tiled countertop. I asked Rob, "Are you real amateur intending to video us too?" The reason I was always hating on him, trying to act disgusted Fucking by him. We looked to the barn, having only a moment’s warning before a wave of grabbing arms and tearful eyes swept over us. You sure can kiss Cory. “Can you blame a man for trying?” I had to tear myself from her grasp to get on the mature bus. She felt his tongue penetrate her lips and spin around wildly inside her mouth. Gary went slow until he was balls deep in her pussy. “Good.” Without thinking twice, I kicked the money off the table.