She was grinding herself against my face, which was coated in her juices, and screaming into the pillow, when her first climax hit. Not giving her spa...ms time to ease up, I pushed the head of my pounding rock inside her."Oh, Bob. Oh, Bob. Oh, Bob," she chanted. "Oh, Bob. Oh, Bob."Her body was moving in rhythm with her voice and I followed as her as I began to thrust deeper into her honey pot of gold liquid."Maggie?" What?" She gasped."We're gonna' make bunches of babies."Her walls squeezed me. Became more personal.She told me about how to be “on the lam” as she put it, and part of that was choosing a fleabag (again her word) motel to stay in. She wanted something as close to being off the grid as possible, with the understanding that one hazard that went with off the grid, fleabag motels, was usually off the grid, fleabag police forces, as well. She said that sometimes small town cops have nothing better to do than be curious about who’s staying at the motel for the night. She says. More

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