Chapter 1

Introduction

My name is Carlos McFee. I am, in my opinion, a regular American guy. I work as a programmer in Sunnyvale, which is part of Silicon Valley, and have done so my entire professional life. I live in a regular American house, own two cars including the minivan, and by outwards appearance, I am really ordinary. There is only one very unusual thing about me.

You might think it’s unusual that I’m a tech professional who is, by ancestry, Mexican-American. It’s true that Latinos are under-represented in tech, but it’s not that unusual. Granted, I never knew my birth parents, I was adopted by a very white Catholic couple with the last name McFee. I love my adoptive parents, but they raised me so white, that the only thing Latino about me is my appearance and my first name. Hell, I can barely speak Spanish. Even today in the Bay Area, there is still some anti-Latino prejudice, mostly by people who don’t even know they’re racist, like assuming in a store or restaurant that I’m an employee. They quickly realize their mistake when I open my mouth, and that’s about the extent of it. I know it’s worse in other parts of the country.

No, the really unusual thing about me is my family life and my sex life. Before I tell you about it, I should back up a bit and explain what came before.

In 1986, I graduated high school and got my girlfriend pregnant by mistake. There was a hell of a lot of drama around that. I had pretty much rejected the Catholicism that my parents tried to raise me with, but there was a lot of pressure on both of us to get married and have the kid, and we went along with it. My wife gave birth to our daughter Mia. We were together for one year before we had to admit the marriage was really not working; we were too young, too different, we fought. We divorced and my ex eventually remarried.

I never really wanted to be a father, so I didn’t fight for custody and only saw Mia once a year throughout her childhood. My own life continued with a string of long-term girlfriends and a lot of dating. Professionally, the early 90s was a good time to be a geek in California. My income allowed me to buy a house, take vacations, and send plenty of child support to my ex. I worried that Mia would resent me, for not being there for her as a father, but that never seemed to be the case. She treated me like a favorite uncle, she looked forward to her annual visit, no doubt due to the fact that I spoiled her rotten when she stayed with me. I bought her anything she wanted and showered her with attention.

I was still avoiding commitment, with a string of sometimes-girlfriends. Mia became a teenager, and a wild one. She was stunningly attractive, with wavy dark hair and a slim figure, and never hesitated to use that to get what she wanted from boys, or men. She dressed provocatively, and her visits to me would involve me driving her to parties, where she would indulge in alcohol, soft drugs, and casual sex, all of which she told me about in complete detail. I was her friend, her safe place, her confidant. I think she stretched the truth with everyone else, but Mia and I always had a relationship of pure, even unsettling, honesty. I’d caution her about drug use and safe sex, and she’d roll her eyes and tell me lurid details, just to underscore she knew what she was doing better than I did. Then we would laugh about it together. Even after Mia graduated high school, left her mother’s house and moved to New York City, she would still visit me, once or twice a year, using my house as a base, to party around the San Francisco Bay Area. She still enjoyed telling me about her escapades, with both men and women.

That brings us to 2010, which is the year everything changed.

Within the small number of my sometimes-girlfriends, the closest was Erin. She was around my age, worked as a tech writer, and was as independently-minded as I was. She was plump, curvy, red-headed, smoked pot on weekends. We met in a ballroom-dance class, went back to her place for sex, and became a semi-regular item. She was fairly dominant in bed, needed her pussy eaten to orgasm before anything else, gave very brief head and was always in control of exactly what position she would let me fuck her. On rare occasion, particularly if she was slightly stoned, she let me do her ass. She had a dirty mind and a wide range of sexual fantasies, some of which she shared with me, especially during foreplay. I knew she was bisexual and that we weren’t exclusive, but she never gave details about other men or women she saw. She didn’t kiss me much, and that set the bounds of our relationship; once every week or two, a little bit of companionship and conversation, but mostly about her sexual needs, on her schedule.

I was 42 years old and felt my own needs changing. For the first time, I started to feel the urge to settle down, and raise kids. I talked openly with Erin about it.

“You know I’m not even close to that kind of woman,” she said, as we lay together in her soft, queen-sized bed, after a round of sex. “I’m never having kids, and no offense, but if I only had sex with you for the rest of my life, I’d eventually die of boredom.”

“I know,” I said laughing. “And that type of woman who wants commitment and kids, I used to push them away because I didn’t want that. Now it’s been a few years since I’ve even met a woman who wanted to get serious. I think I’m getting old.”

“Hah! Well, you could always get a mail-order bride.”

“I’m surprised to hear that coming from a progressive woman like you!”

“Carlos, I know you. You’re not much of a chauvinist. If you got some foreign wife, you wouldn’t treat her like a slave. You’d respect her and give her all the power and choices she deserves. Being married to you is going to be one hell of a lot better for her, than whatever options she’s got in some developing country. You could find one that would happily bear your children, clean your house, cook your meals, take your cock twelve ways from Sunday, and be grateful for it.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this before,” I laughed.

“Maybe I have, for myself. But there isn’t any international dating service for older women seeking hot, younger women as sexual servants.”

“You’ve actually looked for that online?”

“I sure have. Get up and I’ll show you.”

We rolled out of bed, pulled on some underclothes and went to her laptop. Erin did all the surfing, showing me “dating” sites for women from Ukraine, Thailand, and the Philippines. She showed me some which were obviously scams, designed to lure desperate ugly men into expensive trips with little or no chance of actually getting a wife. Then she showed me one she trusted, based on some pretty convincing testimonials, and the fact that they didn’t ask for much money up-front.

“These women all have children already,” she explained, “and that’s why they need a foreign husband. There is no divorce in the Philippines and it’s hard for a woman to find another man if she already has kids.”

“It seems they only have daughters,” I noted, as Erin scrolled down the website and clicked across pages.

“Hmmmm, yes. Teenage daughters. Attractive teenage daughters.” agreed Erin. “That’s interesting. It’s almost implying that you get the daughter as a wife too, in a package deal. But it doesn’t actually say that anywhere. That makes sense they don’t say it because that would be illegal as hell.”

“Not to mention unethical,” I said.

“You’d do it, though, wouldn’t you,” said Erin smiling. “If they were totally into it, and begging you to do them, you’d fuck a hot Filipina woman and her teenage daughter, too.”

“Jesus, Erin. You know about meaningful consent, right?”

“Yes, and it’s important, but it’s also culturally constructed. Look at this pair, here. The daughter is 15. When I was 15, I sure as hell knew what I was asking for the first time I had sex, and I was a sheltered American girl. Hell, look at the ages; assuming that this is all honest, this mother is only 28, so she was barely a teenager herself when she gave birth. Different country, different reality.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to talk me into a mail-order bride, let alone implying I’d fuck some underaged girl!”

“Not that underaged. Teenagers. I can’t believe you’re denying you’d want to fuck them.” Erin’s hand moved over between my legs, finding my half-hard cock. “Imagine this one here, what’s her name?” She squinted at the screen. “Marikit. Imagine Marikit bringing her daughter to you, sucking your cock to get it wet, then stripping off her daughter’s clothes and helping the girl to straddle you, aiming your cock upwards, slowly sinking into that tight teenage pussy, with her mother’s help ... Hah! You’re getting hard. You can’t deny it.”

“OK. Whatever.” I laughed and shook my head. “That’s fine as a fantasy, but in the real world, if I married a woman in this situation, I’d be like a father to her children. I can’t treat a teenage girl as both a daughter and a sex partner.”

“Oh really?” Erin gave me an evil grin. “What about your daughter Mia? She’s seriously hot, and you’ve admitted she’s flirted with you.”

“Exactly my point! I’d never lay an inappropriate finger on Mia, even though she’s an adult, and even if she were openly asking for it, because my relationship to her is parental. And besides, come on ... that’s incest.”

“So what? You’ve heard my daddy fantasies and my sibling fantasies.”

“Sure, because you grew up as a single child with a single mother. You don’t have experience of a real father or siblings, so it’s safe fantasy material for you.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be incest with your mail-order step-daughter.”

“OK. Fine. I give up. I’ll try this website, but I’m not saying I’d have sex with anyone’s teenage daughter. I’d consider a fully-grown woman, as a wife.”

“Fine. Let’s make you a profile.”

After I was registered and had uploaded pictures which Erin took, we spent a long time looking over the available women, and the one we settled on was actually the same one we had on the screen before, a 29-year-old dental assistant named Marikit, who had two daughters, Analyn, 16, and Lily, 14. So far, I was humoring Erin, but as I read the profiles, I was starting to actually imagine doing this. Marikit’s profile read:

I promise you that I am all you see and far more. Marry me and you will never have to worry. I will stay with you for life. I will be careful with your money, drive you crazy in bed, make you proud in public and never complain, because you will be my dream come true. You don’t have to be a hunk to make me feel like a real woman. Just be kind and good to me and my beautiful daughters.

I felt my cynicism slowing fading. I wanted to believe that it was true. I didn’t want to be a single guy in my 50s and 60s, coming home to an empty house, still “dating” at that age. I imagined myself in this possible other life, a happy family man, with a happy foreign wife who was young and attractive, a couple teenagers and a new baby or two. My big empty house would be totally transformed, my life transformed.

We looked over other profiles, but I kept coming back to Marikit. All the women had pretty faces, but some looked a little too skinny for me. Some of the women would accept an American man who wanted to move to the Philippines to marry her, but Marikit made it crystal clear that she and her daughters expected to move to the USA. That’s what I wanted, too.

“Go for it,” said Erin with a smirk, as she emailed me the profile information we had created.

Marikit and I exchanged written messages at first, then scheduled a Skype call. I was enchanted from the first time I saw moving video of her smiling face and her soft voice. Most of the communication consisted of her peppering me with questions, about my house, my job, my life. She needed to know that I didn’t drink excessively, that I was a gentle guy who never hit people, that I had a steady reliable job and a good house. I tried to get her to call me by my first name, but she kept slipping and calling me “sir”. Her English was sufficient, despite a small vocabulary and a strong accent. After our first Skype, I did some online lessons in Tagalog and tried out some words and phrases with her, which she found hysterically funny, politely correcting my pronunciation. I loved her laugh. A bond was forming.

At one point, Marikit asked about my appearance - I didn’t look like her expectations of an Anglo American. She actually wondered if one of my parents was Filipino! I explained about my Mexican birth, my American Catholic upbringing, and the rest. She thought that was really interesting, and we even talked about religion. Apparently, her own Catholicism was as lapsed as mine was.

I didn’t bring up sex. She eventually did. By this time, we were very comfortable with each other on camera, but I was still unprepared for how quickly the conversation went sexual.

“I make sure, Carlos,” she said one night on Skype. It was morning in the Philippines, and I could see the sunlight and green trees outside the window, in the room she sat in. Her clothes were neat, her makeup impeccable, her face smiling. “You like sex with women?”

“Yes,” I smiled. “I like sex with women.”

“And you think I am pretty?”

I had told her this many times, but said again, “Yes, I find you very pretty.”

“I am not too old for you?”

“Mari, you’re 13 years younger than me.”

“Yes, but men like younger women. I am old and I am a mother.”

“Mari, I’ve dated a lot of women, of all different ages. You are still young, and you can be sexy at any age.”

She smiled. “You think I am sexy?”

“I do. I found your picture very attractive when I first saw it, and the more I get to know you, you are even more sexy to me.”

“Oh!” Her smile grew, and her hands went to her blouse. In a few seconds, she slipped it off along with her bra, and faced me on the screen, cupping her breasts. “You like?”

Her breasts were modest sized but decent for a Filipina, perhaps almost a C cup, and nicely shaped. “Yes, beautiful, sexy breasts,” I encouraged.

“They are not big like an American woman.”

“I’m not into big floppy breasts.” I was glad Erin wasn’t hearing this conversation! “I like breasts like yours, they are sexy to look at, and they will feel good in my hands.”

“Oh, Carlos, sir.” She smiled, her hands dropping down to her lap, pushing her chest forward. “I think we will like sex together.”

“I’m sure we will,” I said smiling.

“You like, blow-job?”

“Yes, very much. And I like to eat pussy, too.”

“Oh!” She seemed to flush slightly, perhaps with arousal. “I like if you do that. And I am touching me.”

That explained what her hands were doing in her lap, out of sight of the Skype camera. I felt somewhat awkward, with Mari half-naked and masturbating while I sat fully clothed.

“Do you want to see me, too?” I asked gently.

“You want to show me, your cock? Yes,” she replied with genuine interest. I was no stranger to cyber-sex, and believe me, the guy always wants to see the girl naked, but the reverse is rarely true unless she is pretending interest, or really turned on. Asking to see my cock was a good sign.

“OK.” I unzipped and stood up at my desk. I was already hard from watching her topless.

“Oh! Wow! Sir!” Mari gasped, and body shook slightly, apparently the sight of my hard cock pushing her over the edge. I was amazed and excited. Even when I was younger and fitter, no girlfriend of mine had ever expressed sexual desire at seeing my naked body, and I was no longer young.

“Do you swallow cum, Mari?” I asked, feeling emboldened by her sexual state.

“Yes, sir! I swallow your cum happily.”

Her mouth was hanging open, slightly, as her hands were busy in her lap. I was actively imaging pushing my cock into her mouth and having her suck it enthusiastically.

“I feel like I can ask you anything, Mari.”

“Yes, sir. Anything!”

“Do you like anal sex?”

“Yes, sir!” She appeared to be still coming. “I want you to come in my pussy and give me a baby. But when you are not doing that, you can put it in my ass any time you want!”

I sat back down, stroking and pretty close myself. “That’s awesome. You are an incredibly sexy woman, Mari.”

“Yes, I am sexy for you! And do you want mistress? You can have mistress, if you never leave me. We can enjoy sex with mistress, together.”

“That’s very generous of you. And you’ll eat my mistress’s pussy, too?”

“Yes, sir! I will love to do that.”

I came, and slowly Mari came down from her orgasm as well and slipped her bra back on. We sat there for a minute, just smiling at each other in the afterglow, breathing hard.

“Did you mean all that?” I asked. “Or is that just sexy talk?”

“I mean all that, Carlos. Come to the Philippines and you will see. You will want to marry me.”

I hadn’t hooked up with Erin since she had set me up on the dating service. I was feeling a little conflicted, about continuing to see her sexually while I was obviously getting involved emotionally with Marikit. But after that Skype sex session, I felt OK about it.

Erin was at one of our ballroom dance gatherings, and made it clear she wanted to take me home. I went along. On the drive to her place, she grilled me on all the details of my online courtship, right up to the sexual episode.

“And right in the middle of it,” I was explaining, “she tells me it’s OK for me to have mistresses. And that she’d welcome having threesomes.”

“Damn,” said Erin. “Presuming she’s being honest, that’s pretty hot. I might get to keep seeing you after all, and I’d get to enjoy your pretty little wife, too.”

“Do you think it’s an act?” I said. “I mean, a lot of tease, and then once she’s here with her daughters and married, no sexual follow-through?”

“I don’t think so. Green-card marriages take a long time to process. If she’s promising anything she can’t deliver, she won’t be able to stay happily married to you for the time it takes to become a permanent resident. She won’t want to jeopardize her new life and her daughters’ American future. Speaking of which, have you seen those jail-bait daughters yet?”

“Soon. I think they’ll be on Skype next time.”

“So, you still think the daughters aren’t part of the deal? You don’t think you’ll end up having sex with them?”

“Dammit, of course I don’t think I’ll have sex with them! Statutory rape, hello?”

“Well, if they’re as highly sexed as their mother is, maybe I’ll enjoy them. You can keep Marikit, and send those gorgeous daughters to my bed. Young, eager, willing, horny, cute little minxes that I can teach to worship my pussy.”

“Jesus, Erin! You’re so bad!”

“I know! It’s getting me turned on thinking about it. You’re still OK having sex with me, aren’t you?”

“Dammit, you know I am.”

“Good.” We got to her house and pulled off our clothes on the way to her bed. As I ate Erin’s plump but neatly-trimmed pussy, she was breathily spinning stories of how excited she would be to have my future step-daughters in her bed. I was doing my best not to get caught up in her fantasy, but it was clearly affecting me too, judging from how fast I came inside Erin the first time.

Sure enough, during the next scheduled Skype session with Mari, her girls were there, sitting closely on either side of her. They were nicely if conservatively dressed, and wore a tasteful amount of makeup. Mari introduced each girl to me. They shyly said hello and stared intently at me on their screen.

The older girl, Analyn, was introduced with the nickname “Linlin”. Her face was a little wider than Mari’s, her skin a slightly paler shade of light brown. The younger one, Lily, was the spitting image of her mother, just scaled down slightly. Apparently “Lily” being a short name meant that she didn’t have a nickname like her sister.

We made small talk until the daughters gradually relaxed.

“You marry Nanay and we move to the USA?” said Analyn.

I laughed. “Maybe, yes. I have already bought an airline ticket to come and meet you.”

“Yay!” said both girls. Mari just smiled.

“If your mother and I decide we like each other, and everything is good, then yes, maybe we get married.”

“Everything will be good,” said Mari with a confident smile. “You will see.”

“We are ready,” said Analyn. She launched into a long explanation, about how she and her sister attended a special school, where they learned English and all the things they would need to know to live in the USA. She told me how excited they were, how grateful that I was considering them, and how wonderful it would be to meet me in person. It would have seemed a little over-the-top, but nothing about it felt forced or scripted; it felt totally honest. Analyn’s English was a little better than her mother’s. Then it was Lily’s turn. She told me a bunch of the same stuff, underscoring how happy they would be to live all together in my house.

Lily called me “Sir”, but also referred to me with an affectionate tone as Tito, which I knew meant Uncle. That settled something I had been wondering about. Would the girls see me as a father, step-father, uncle, or something else? I was fine with Uncle. The Skype call, everything that was said was completely non-sexual, but there was an undercurrent, something unspoken. It was in their body language, all three of them, in the warm tone of Mari’s voice when she said, “You will see.”

The next time my daughter Mia called, we did our usual catch-up on each other’s lives, and eventually I had to tell her what I was doing: planning to visit the Philippines, to meet a woman, and probably get married. I thought she might be shocked, but she seemed to take it in stride.

“You know, Dad, that makes a lot of sense.”

“Really? First Erin, now you? I’ve heard you call yourself a feminist. Is a mail-order bride really OK with you?”

She laughed. “Geez, Dad, it’s not really mail-order. It’s not like you’re buying a woman on Amazon.com and getting her mailed in a box. You paid a dating service. You’re going there to meet her. I know you well enough to know, you’re not going to lie to her or trick her into anything. I know you’re a nice guy, hell, you’re too nice. You’ll treat her right. If she decides to marry you, she’ll weigh the pros and cons, and come to her own conclusion.”

“Yes, but ... you know, it’s not an equitable situation, in terms of, what do they call it, a power analysis. Even just looking at the economic angle.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I went to college too. Look, if she decides to marry you, and you bring her here and then she decides you’re a schmuck, what happens? She leaves you, she goes home to the Philippines a few years later, and she had a really big all-expenses-paid vacation in the USA.”

“I’m kinda hoping that doesn’t happen.”

“Right, and if you stay happily married until you’re old and grey? Sure, she’s spent years cleaning your house and doting on you, but you’ve got to admit, it’s still a pretty sweet deal for her. What’s her name?”

“Marikit.”

“And she’s, like, 21 or something?”

“Come on, Mia. She’s 29.”

“Ha! Still, barely older than me.” She laughed. “It’s been a long time since you dated anyone under 30. Really, Dad, I hope it works out. I hope you’re the kind of guy she’s looking for, and that she’s the hot younger woman you want to start a family with. Go for it.”

Arrival.

The arrangements to visit the Philippines were coordinated by the dating service, which was apparently set up by a Filipina named Jun, although I didn’t interact with her directly. It was mostly handled by emails to a number of local staff with female names, who told me where and when to fly, what to expect, what to bring. I had plenty of PTO (paid time off) accrued at my salaried job, so I blocked off enough to give me around 2 weeks of actual time in the Philippines.

As directed, I packed lightly, just a carry-on and no bag to check. I had been to Asia a few times during my tech career, especially Singapore, so I knew what I was in for. The flight itself wasn’t as bad as I feared, one long Air China leg to Beijing during which I managed to read and actually sleep a few hours, then a connecting flight of another 5 hours down to Manila. Upon arrival, my muscles were stiff, my brain tired, and my internal clock was utterly confused, but that was about the worst of it. Getting through customs is a breeze, and I am suddenly outside in the thick, tropical Manila air, in the middle of the night.

I have been given a cell number, but I don’t need it. There are a number of locals at the curb, holding up signs with names on them. And there she is, my sweet Marikit! In a modest, practical dress, but looking fantastic. Holding a sign with my name was entirely unnecessary. I am drawn magnetically to her smile.

“Carlos!” she says, lowering her sign.

“Mari.” We stand there awkwardly for a second, my sleep-deprived brain struggling. “I am wondering if it would be OK to kiss you ... but maybe the Philippines does not approve of public affection?”

She laughed. “Later. Come, I will take you to the hotel.”

The taxi ride is a bit of blur, as is checking into a rather nice hotel, the kind for foreigners with money. Marikit tells me that Jun’s company has already reserved a room for us. I show my passport to the front desk for ID, we get a key card. I follow behind her, to the elevator, and down the hall. Do her hips always sway seductively like that, or is she doing it just for me? We get in the room, the door closes, and we are finally kissing.

It starts out gentle but quickly turns toe-curling. Her hands are on my sides, as if holding on to me for security. I’m not that tall a guy, but I am noticing just how short she is, in the angle of our kiss. My hands are moving over the curves of her small body, at least the ones I can reach. I am suddenly aware that I have been traveling for a long time, and I need a shower. I break the kiss and excuse myself, heading into the enormous bathroom. A few minutes later I am cleanly scrubbed and back in the main room, wearing just a towel. Marikit is sitting on the edge of the bed, down to just a bra and panties. She smiles and beckons me to her.

“I have already seen you,” she said playfully, tugging my towel off. My half-hard cock bobs near her face.

“I get the feeling you’re not going to let me sleep?”

“You can sleep if you want to. But you might like this first,” she said, taking my cock expertly into her mouth.

There is a world of difference between a woman sucking your cock who is into it, versus someone just doing it as a favor or obligation. Marikit was into it. My legs got wobbly, so she pulled back the covers and let me collapse onto the bed, then she went right back to rhythmically swallowing my cock. I’m a pretty average-sized guy, so she was able to take a surprising amount in, and her tongue, Damn! I usually don’t come from just straight oral sex, but ... well, after three minutes I was coming, and she was swallowing. Then I was out, like a light.

I woke up with Marikit next to me. Soft light and the sound of distant traffic came around the curtains of the large window by the bed. My eyes opened, to see her looking into my face and smiling gently. I felt her hand move down and grip my morning wood. I could tell by the feel of her body against mine that she was as naked as I was. I confirmed it by turning my body to kiss her neck and trail my hand down her body, feeling her nipples, then down between her legs. My middle finger found her clit. She spread her legs for me, and I felt some wetness.

“Good morning, Mari,” I said, slowly moving my finger.

“Good morning! I have been thinking about sex with you.”

“I can tell,” I said smiling.

“Do you need to get up? Or will you please take me now, and make me yours?”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do.”

Slowly, I moved on top of her, rubbing the head of my cock up and down her slit to get it wet, then pressed in. She gasped and held my body firmly. I began to fuck her and noticed right away that the difference in height made missionary position a little interesting. I’d had a few short girlfriends over the years, but Marikit’s face was down by my nipples. I bent my torso so I could kiss her and pound her pussy at the same time. I don’t know what I expected, but her pussy was just right - neither loose from bearing two children, nor too small and tight. I was all the way in, but not awkwardly bumping her cervix. I felt her muscles grip me, and barely minutes had passed before I felt myself on the edge.

“I’d like to come inside you,” I said.

“Yes! Make a baby in me.”

Well, I hadn’t been considering that, but at the moment, it sounded like a pretty good idea. I unloaded what felt like buckets of cum inside her, then pulled out and we spent several minutes just kissing and caressing. Eventually, I excused myself to go pee, then got into the shower. Marikit appeared and stepped into the shower with me. This was my first time seeing her entire naked body, and soon, with soapy hands, my first time to feel every bit of her. I was glad that I didn’t pick one of the women with bony thin bodies - she had some actual curves that felt great in my hands. We playfully washed each other between kisses, I got hard again, and she bent slightly to suck me skillfully as the hot water ran down us. When I was rock hard, I pulled her head off my cock and turned her around. She knew what I wanted, but it took a bit of figuring out exactly how to stand, with the difference in our height, so that I could push into her pussy from behind. She was wet on the outside, wet on the inside, smiling and almost giggling with happiness as I held her hips and fucked her hard. She seemed to be getting close to orgasm, but my legs were getting tired. I led her out of the shower, briefly dried off, then I spread her out on the bed to eat her pussy. Her pussy was completely hairless, so no obstacle as my tongue found her clit. She gasped and within a minute, was coming on my tongue. I moved up and sank into her quivering pussy, which felt like it was coming even as I slid into her. I gave it to her firmly, and now I had staying power.