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My grandmother was a true believer in ghost and had many family ghost stories that were passed down to her from her mother and grandmother. The south is full of ghost stories from the Civil War era. Some people believe that a massage lot of souls were trapped on this blowjob earth during that vicious war and some soul still wander in search of their resting place. This story is not one of my grandmother’s stories. However, it was inspired by one she told me when I was just a teenager. Christina Parker married Greg Townsend just after graduating from high school. She was eighteen at the time, and Greg was twenty-five. Greg never advanced past the tenth grade, so he was forever locked into a dead-end job as a laborer. They lived in a run-down shack near the railroad yards. That was all they could afford on his laborer's salary with the B & O railroad. Greg spent his days, and sometimes evenings, loading and unloading boxcars. He was typically exhausted most nights when he got home. His usual evening routine consisted of eating dinner, plopping down in front of the TV and consuming one beer after another until bedtime or until he passed out; whichever came first. That soon took a terrible toll on their sex life. Christina desperately wanted a baby, and Greg wanted a son, but in the eight years they had been married they'd had no luck in producing a child. Christina's doctor suggested invitro fertilization, but it was too expensive, and Greg balked at the idea because people would think he wasn't man enough to get his own wife pregnant. It was a constant source of unhappiness for them both. Christina prayed every night teen that she would be able to get pregnant. She fell into depression, and Greg began to drink himself into unconsciousness every night. After a few years Greg began to show no real interest in sex anymore; at least not when she needed him most. Occasionally he would give in to her plea for sexual relief and climb on top of her, stick his cock into her vagina and quickly deposit his seed before rolling off and going to sleep. There was never any foreplay on those nights. He didn't even bother to kiss her most of the time, nor do anything else that would lead to an orgasm for her. It had just become mechanical with him; shoot his wad and fall asleep. She needed more than that to satisfy her needs. She needed someone to make her feel like a woman again. She was long past the hopes of actually getting pregnant, but she would still like to have a real orgasm small tits every once in a while. She wanted an orgasm that was the results of a hard Massage Fucking cock rather than her fingers or the vibrator her husband didn't know about. There was a storm raging outside when Christina was shaken from a deep sleep by a loud clap of thunder. She thought she’d heard someone calling her name from outside. She looked over at Greg, and he was sound asleep. She just points towards the studio. "Du hast teen es grad echt nötig oder? “How many aliens have you met?” he replied, “. “I’ll drop it off on the way to work, and pick up on the way back tonight.” Diego wasn’t late to join me in Wonderland. The muscles in my throat worked on instinct, grasping at the invading prick and trying to swallow it downward. Finally, I felt another set of hands moving over my body. I was trying to think of a way to phrase my gleeful acceptance of Mom’s generous offer of sex Massage Fucking without sounding like a dork. "Stand, and come to this side of the desk." small tits and she did. Despite the embarrassment massage of being caught by Tabatha, my blowjob erection showed no sign of softening.