Life is good except for the parts that suck. Being homeless sucks almost as much as being old. In the cold light of autumn dawn, under the uncaring eyes of the Sheriff's eviction team, I shoved the last cardboard box of my belongings into the cargo hold of my girlfriend's Rav4 and slammed the hatch closed. Resisting the temptation to render a one-finger salute, I kept my opinion in my pocket and jumped into the passenger seat and shivered. Darlene flipped several strands of babe flyaway hair out of her eyes for the umpteenth time and squinted to read the tiny letters with directions to our new home: some Godforsaken prepper hideaway in the western mountains. Mapmakers tend to hide the most critical information in the smallest print known to man. She was like that--a stickler for details. Finally finished, she smiled. "Let's go!" She adjusted the mirror and put lick the Rav into gear. We were going to start a new life off the grid. Her soft and innocent musical voice accented her thoughts with honey and desire. To me, she sounded like exotic ear-candy. She was more than she seemed and used a different song for every mood and season. When angry, sarcastic sandpaper replaced honey as her words scoured lies and bullshit away from facts until only the unvarnished truth remained.? We met at a local tavern where we developed an unlikely May-December relationship. She played the part of blowjob May at the youthful age of thirty-five. I fulfilled the role of Daddy December at the Grandfatherly age of sixty-mumble.? Through the process of elimination, we had become drinking buddies at our local tavern. I'm not sure "buddies" is the correct word. More often than not, we happened to be the last people still standing when the bartender bellowed out, "Last call for alcohol!" Initially, geography was our common bond. The tavern, built in the 1890s, featured a walnut and mahogany bar with an odd little 'L' shaped hook at the far corner of the saloon. The bar and a back wall of brick formed a naturally cozy alcove spacious enough Fucking to accommodate three stools. According to local legend, the original owner ordered the hook's construction to allow him to observe activities of untrustworthy bartenders while also keeping an eye on equally unreliable patrons. The voyeur and hermit in me loved the location, and Brunette I had it all to myself for several months until the day Darlene arrived. She also loved the strategic observatory. At first, I was annoyed at the invasion of my secret space. After a while, I looked forward to her company. Can I come?” she says as the jizz drips down from her nose. Name: Abigail Elizabeth Miller It was considerably cooler in the morning as I sped along the highway, with the wind playing in my hair and the sound of the powerful engine blowjob beating in rhythm with my heartbeat. The more she rocked, the harder I sucked. She shook her head, and turned around, determined to swallow babe the ugly emotion. “Well we’ll just have to strip 1 of you and haul you up.” It's a 1998 Ford Escort. “I told you we were using a different type of credit,” he grinned. At first I didn't like it but then I lick realised it was nice to have someone other than you find me attractive, but don't worry he's Fucking far too old for me." and she laughed brightly. Not long once they'd started, the boy Brunette spasmed, and his cock shot out another load of cum. She licked her lips. “Bloody hell, they’ve talking about me like a whore, a piece of meat; but hell, I guess that that’s what I am tonight. And with that, i pump what seems like a gallon of cum inside of her. I was stretched beyond belief, and knew Lexi’s double-stuffed fuck tunnels were straining at their limits.