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She grabbed my hips and kept that same pace, and I slowly went from her sucking me off to me facefucking her, and we both enjoyed every second of it. I got to the point where I couldn’t hold it anymore and sped up to where my balls were slapping her chin, and then in an instant I sucked in my breath and let out a little groan while trying to be quiet and shot my load inside her mouth. Three months of built up cum went streaming down her throat and she looked like she didn’t miss a beat swallowing it. my legs started to give out but she held me up, making sure she got every last drop out of me before she let me go. After an eternity I finally felt the last drops slide out and she finally let my limp cock fall from her mouth, but she didn’t stop, she sucked on it some more like she wanted to get it back hard again, and even though I was still sensitive, I let her. I relaxed while she continued to suck my cock, and when my senses finally started coming back to me one completely overrode. To be honest, I wanted to feel like one of the old-school writers, so the simple pen was my preferred writing tool. I chewed on my pen when deep in thought and rapped my forehead with it when frustrated. Right now, my head throbbed from the thumping it had taken over the last hour, unable to concentrate as his words kept echoing inside my head.Your writing lacks authenticity, he had said. It's planned. Calculated. A far cry from the poems of the Romantic writers you hope to emulate, he had added, twisting the knife.And the one that really stung was when he had said, It's like you are devoid of passion.I hoped he hadn't noticed how embarrassment coloured my cheeks. It was hard to write with passion when you hadn't made love yet. In my teen years, I had prided myself on keeping my legs closed to those immature boys. I was a hopeless romantic who wanted to save myself for my wedding night. Sure, I'd been kissed a few times ... even had my plump breasts felt up a time or two ... but when.
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I was the first to speak."See Tiny, I never win an argument in my own home. She always tells me where to go and how to act." You think that's bad, try growing up with her looking over your shoulder. I guarantee it doesn't make for a happy childhood."Now it was Myrna's turn to glare at us. We looked her right in the eye, grinned, and ran for the dining room. We were still grinning at each other when two plonks sounded. She had hit both of us on the head with a skillet. We both went down laughing and rolled over. We laid there looking up at her standing over us with one of her skillets in her hand. She was grinning down at us, looking smug as hell."You two will never learn, never insult the cook or her friends. Now get up before Sally and Kat come down and I have to explain why you're laying on the floor laughing like a couple of big kids."She turned and went back to the kitchen and over the sound of our own laughter, we could hear her chuckling as she walked. I rolled over and got to.

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