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How much she loved to do naughty things... I wish sheloved to get fucked again, but those years are long gone.It wasn't until the echo washed over me that I knew a change had beenmade. But for the love of me I didn't know what. Susie rubbed against me,her hand stroking my penis through my pants. She nibbled my ear, and Iknew that the TV would have to wait. Susie never lost her zest for makinglove, and as she began to unbutton my shirt, I began to strip her, ourkisses growing heated and more urgent. Her breath quickening. And beforeI knew it she was under me, and I had thrust my penis into her, rockingback and forth in a slow, loving rhythm.As I looked at her, moaning and licking her lips, a funny thought crossedmy mind. That should be me there, on my back. It felt wrong doing thepenetrating for some reason, but I couldn't fathom why. I kept going, itfelt to good to stop, but every time I closed my eyes, it was me gettingfucked, me taking, not giving. And it didn't seem to bother me. The large hard body jostled against me, forcing me to grasp the wall behind the urinal with the flats of both hands. "Don't. . ," I began."Stay quiet bitch!" the intruder said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Some bumping and fumbling followed. A large black calloused hand reached from behind me to grasp my still spraying cock. "Nice," the deep voice said. More fumbling. I felt the heft of a substantial cock against the small of my back, poking me.My heart pumped short and fast in my breast; I could not catch a breath; I feared I would faint. My knees were weak. I tried to speak, tried to tell him, but the lump in my throat was as large as the lump pushing against my ass. My cock was driven forward against the cold porcelain as the heavy body behind me asserted itself. My feet began to slip, but my knees were braced from behind by strong thighs. I grasped the cold, sweaty pipe of the urinal, clinging for life, as my assailant's huge black cock impaled me. Searing pain lashed.
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Lorna sat down and cut herself a slice of the pie. "Not much more than anyone else, I suppose," she said. "Heard she was ill, but then we've heard that a lot over the years and she just keeps on going. Is she why you came back?"Annabeth nodded. "She sent word she wanted to see me. I don't know why, and I won't go in that house to find out." Lorna silently thanked God for the younger woman's words. When Annabeth had still lived there, she had often feared the girl would never come out. "So, if she won't come to me, I'll head back." Good for you," said Lorna."I saw my mother today," Annabeth told her. "She looked ... I don't know. Weak. Pathetic. I had no sympathy for her, no empathy." She looked at Lorna. "Does that make me a bad person, do you think? To have no feelings for my mother?"Lorna reached over and took her hand. "It makes you human. If your mother had done anything to help you, you'd have feelings. I think it's only natural to feel the way you do, when the person who should.

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