She let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a soulful cry (not quite a squeal but near it). He lingered for a moment relishing the feel and tight...ess. Then he reared back and in the truest rawest sense of the word began to fuck her. It was like he was in another world, sweat poured from both of them as he trusted harder and harder. She met each thrust willingly, eyes now half open and mouth agape. The word "yes" over and over as she wrapped her beautiful legs around him to keep him from. The memories I have could fill volumes. And they are all there. In crystal clarity. And I sometimes wonder if this is a good thing? Or not?My mom was a very religious person. My dad not so much. We would go to mass every Sunday.Oh, and if you didn't realize, my elementary schools have a theme.St. Rose of Lima. St. Bernadettes. Soon to be followed with St. Luke's and Immaculate Conception School.Yes, my mom raised us in the Catholic church. I did not see it coming at age 9, but by the age of 14. More

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