... For a moment I thought about telling him that it was because I had spent the whole afternoon being fist-fucked by Ginger, but somehow I had the feeling that Donnie might not understand. Ginger and I continued seeing each other for a couple of months. After she moved away, I dreamed of being fist-fucked by Donnie, but I thought his hands were too big for my tight little cunt. Ginger had wanted me to fist her, after all, and we had tried it with half a dozen different lubricants, but my hands are much larger than Ginger's and, though I could get four fingers inside her pussy, we could never go further than that. Anyway, Donnie and I were just getting into anal sex, and that was enough of a thrill for me for a time. I found initially that it hurt a lot more for me to take his cock up my ass than it did to be fisted by Ginger. For maybe four or five months, I was too busy with the joy of having Donnie's big prick plunging in and out of my asshole to think about anything else ...
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