He wished dearly that he were back in Chelsea, London, doing what he did best: professional boxing. But he had been kicked off the team for a reason: ...oo much drinking not enough boxing. That was a few years ago, after several attempts to get a job in America and after several failures, the alcohol had taken over and Johny turned into a file that lay somewhere in a police headquarter. But today John’s luck was about to change and so was his nickname; Johny was about to get lucky.His foot kicked. I, however, couldn’t care less and loved the dominion. The horny growls of approval made it clear that my capitulation was exactly what he had expected of me.Jack was no sprinter and was clear that I needed to prepare myself for the long haul. Varying his pace constantly, there was a bit of respite for me every here and there. Whenever my breathing, however, became too relaxed for his liking, he would again begin to pound into me powerfully. On and on the giant fucked me, and my blissful. More

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