What heat, the cat's pussy is so hot.He was complaining to himself almost at the top of his lungs that old acquaintance, while, as was usual in our encounters, he was practically dragging me to my already accustomed seat in the place.- Today Ernesto has something special prepared for you, I don't know what it is, but you're going to have a blast for sure.He told me with a smile that caused more concern than anything else and winking at me while walking away.Fernando, a Vermouth for the guy who is dying of heat.I screamed while approaching the bar at the place.This is my friend.I express myself very happily and proudly as Ernesto, while with his hands he pointed out that man to my side. He had a dark face, definitely with northern airs on his face, specifically from the zone of Bolivia I would venture to say. He was also notably shorter than Ernesto, but definitely much thicker around the waist, I saw how that shirt which once knew to be white struggled to contain hidden that swollen belly. He approached me and passed his arm across my back too friendly for my taste.- My name is Ramón and I drive a truck...I didn't finish the sentence, it wasn't necessary, we all knew the direction this encounter would take. Once again, with concern tracing my body, I sighed and accepted my fate.
What had surprised me most was how well they had calculated the size of the clothes. That school uniform fit me perfectly, as if made to measure, despite having left school several years ago, and my body wasn't necessarily the same. But that attire, previously chosen for me, fitted me very well, evoking pleasant memories of that time in my life, even though it was different from what I used to wear. After all, I don't remember ever wearing a Scottish skirt with a white shirt so short it barely reached my stomach. But there I was, in the center of the room, looking at those delicate garments, smiling at Ernesto and his friend Ramón.But what a beautiful one this is.Ramón said, being the first to approach me, while with a big smile he touched my skirt. Then Ernesto approached me and did the same, both surrounding me like hungry lions preparing to pounce on that precious prey.
After a brief discussion, of which I was only a participant as an listener, since I was placed in that known position, inclined and giving my torturers my back, it had been decided that Ramón would be the first to act. I could feel him taking me with his two open hands around my waist, positioning my white and weak humanity for that mortal thrust, without having adjusted the skirt that was so noticeable he liked over my back very delicately.Be quiet beautiful.He told me slowly in my ear to calm me down, I didn't respond, I didn't want to break his heart and make him notice that neither his words nor his tone were able to convey that message. The Bolivian people are composed of very noble and proud people of their history. After a life filled with external and internal conflicts, they always persevered with dignity and without losing their identity. Definitely a nation of strong men, I thought to myself, while slowly losing all sensitivity from my waist down. Only Ramón's roar, expressing his love for his native land, as well as what my humanity was offering him at that moment, could be heard in the place. Outside of my narrow field of vision, I could feel Ernesto's gaze full of pride, like a fortunate unique spectator before that image of Latin American brotherhood. I could also notice how he was masturbating wildly. It's hard to measure time under those conditions, but it was most of the night when Ernesto and Ramón took turns in that enterprise whose sole purpose was the massive and absolute destruction of my honorable self. It wasn't until early morning, when the first rays of dawn were filtering through a small window and began to embrace me, that my consciousness started taking its first steps back. Lying motionless on the bed, I could see Ernesto and Ramón, already dressed, greeting each other in what is commonly known among today's youth as a hi-five, and with the few functional neurons left in my body, my only thought was how much I wanted to join that honorable salute.
What had surprised me most was how well they had calculated the size of the clothes. That school uniform fit me perfectly, as if made to measure, despite having left school several years ago, and my body wasn't necessarily the same. But that attire, previously chosen for me, fitted me very well, evoking pleasant memories of that time in my life, even though it was different from what I used to wear. After all, I don't remember ever wearing a Scottish skirt with a white shirt so short it barely reached my stomach. But there I was, in the center of the room, looking at those delicate garments, smiling at Ernesto and his friend Ramón.But what a beautiful one this is.Ramón said, being the first to approach me, while with a big smile he touched my skirt. Then Ernesto approached me and did the same, both surrounding me like hungry lions preparing to pounce on that precious prey.
After a brief discussion, of which I was only a participant as an listener, since I was placed in that known position, inclined and giving my torturers my back, it had been decided that Ramón would be the first to act. I could feel him taking me with his two open hands around my waist, positioning my white and weak humanity for that mortal thrust, without having adjusted the skirt that was so noticeable he liked over my back very delicately.Be quiet beautiful.He told me slowly in my ear to calm me down, I didn't respond, I didn't want to break his heart and make him notice that neither his words nor his tone were able to convey that message. The Bolivian people are composed of very noble and proud people of their history. After a life filled with external and internal conflicts, they always persevered with dignity and without losing their identity. Definitely a nation of strong men, I thought to myself, while slowly losing all sensitivity from my waist down. Only Ramón's roar, expressing his love for his native land, as well as what my humanity was offering him at that moment, could be heard in the place. Outside of my narrow field of vision, I could feel Ernesto's gaze full of pride, like a fortunate unique spectator before that image of Latin American brotherhood. I could also notice how he was masturbating wildly. It's hard to measure time under those conditions, but it was most of the night when Ernesto and Ramón took turns in that enterprise whose sole purpose was the massive and absolute destruction of my honorable self. It wasn't until early morning, when the first rays of dawn were filtering through a small window and began to embrace me, that my consciousness started taking its first steps back. Lying motionless on the bed, I could see Ernesto and Ramón, already dressed, greeting each other in what is commonly known among today's youth as a hi-five, and with the few functional neurons left in my body, my only thought was how much I wanted to join that honorable salute.
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