Paul had then taken himself off to a coffee lounge, found a suitable seat, ordered a cappuccino and settled down to watch people to-ing and fro-ing, a sport he liked to indulge in when waiting at airports, it helped to pass the time. Christine remembered that she had been late, her plan spoiled by the non-arrival of the taxi she had ordered that caused her to miss the train. On arrival at Gatwick she had rushed to the desk hot, flustered close to tears and unaware of the delay. Calmly and efficiently the same lady who had spoken to Paul had assured her that there was no problem as the flight would not be leaving until tomorrow due to technical difficulties, adding that over-night accommodation had been provided. This had calmed Christine but saddened her a little, knowing that she would need to wait an additional night before seeing her beloved Egypt. A last minute decision, Christine had booked her flight over the Internet. The early elation that she had felt had now gone, indeed. He kept pushing it a half inch at a time, more and more... and to my surprise, it kept going in my mouth. I just got ass ****d and now my mouth was getting abused. I could taste cum. I could taste ass. I could taste his sweat. I could smell his pubes as he started going deeper into my mouth. "Ya that's how come God made you my bitch boi. No gag reflex. Too bad, I like it when my bitches struggle." Every word he said was a dagger to me. 'My bitches'? How many times had he done this? When was it going to stop?... This went on for what felt like hours, even though I'm sure it was much less. My jaw started to ache, my throat felt sore and scratchy from his big cock pressed in me, and I had a bad taste in my mouth... probably the taste of my ass... ugh... And then I finally got to breathe. He slide his cock out my mouth for the first time since he entered it. I coughed, and breathed, and fought back my gags as this slimly, slippery cock bobbed up in down in front of my face. "Time for.
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