’ We climbed into one of the subways and crowded the compartment. En route to the fair grounds I learned that the older guy owned an irish pub in some obscure hamlet in Tuscany. He was enthusiastic to visit the Spaten tent to pay homage to his beer tap back home. This was of course translated. How and why would someone own an Irish pub, the roach motel for Anglophones, without speaking any English themselves. (I quickly dismissed my scorn when I remembered the Italian restaurants back home with people named smith or cooper running an ‘Ristorante’ that served ketchup based marinara gravy). The conversation shifted between the others. One would say ‘Hey dude’ and I’d say ‘mamma mia.’ After exchanging our knowledge of each others language and a couple of snickers at my expense I was itching to lose them. The opportunity came when we were entering Oktoberfest and a group of Clydesdales hauling a beer wagon loitered around for vacation photos. Completely distracted, I slipped into the. He could feel the hot sludge climbing further and furtherup his bowels, backing him up and threatening to enter his stomach as herclimax drove on seemingly without end.Jeanne leaned back suddenly, withdrawing her pulsating schlong from hisoverflowing ass with an obscene slurp. She held it at a slight upwardangle as semen continued to jet from the mushroom shaped head. Long,thick ropes of cum landed all over James' back and limbs, slowly coveringhim in viscous slime.As the entire backside of his body took on a white glaze, she reached downand grabbed one of his hip handles, tugging it mightily and rolling himover. James found himself staring up at a woman possessed, ropes of hercum shooting out all over his thighs, chest and face.As her stream of jizzum shrunk to a trickle, she released her cock andpounced on him hastily. She grabbed his nipples through the thick latex,twisting fiercely as she brought her face to his and began licking hisneck above the collar, her half naked body.
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