It filled my slit and overflowed in a sticky trickle down my thighs. He slid out of me and more jazz spattered my back and buttocks, dribbled into the...cleft between them. Slowly, he squeezed his cock back into my cunt and began to fuck me again. The photographer killed the lights. Joe slid out of me. I sank down on the bed, exhausted, my chest heaving, my body trembling. Joe got off the bed.“Thanks. That was a very decent fuck,” he said to me.I moaned, my fingers still clawed on the sheets. I. Her parents had both arrived as war orphans in the early fifties. Her father was Austrian, her mother Czech. Arriving with nothing, they built their own lives here with humility, strength, and hard work. As a girl, Karen knew little but long work hours, thrift and clean living.There was always music in the household - opera, the classics and jazz. Both her parents played the piano and her mother sang. Karen had been taught piano and the violin as a child but it hadn't taken. She complained her. More

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