top of page
Search

Maria Poggio

It was on a Saturday, this past Saturday in fact, that Angela had been invited, by Kai-Kai. She was on the forest path in McIntyre Park, taking a shortcut back from lunch with friends. The glimpse of a sunlit, undulating bare butt with a woman’s boots and stockinged legs wrapped around it told her she was passing an outdoor impreg. The copulating couple was fairly deep in the woods, not exposed to public view unless one deliberately looked. Floating on the breeze were Italian-inflected sighs of a woman in orgasm then, barely audible, the boy’s polite low moan, mixing with the singing birds and the low bubbling of the adjacent creek. By the time she rounded the bend and looked from the other side they had finished. She decided to climb through the laurel bushes and say hi. Saturday impregs were lazy, indulgent affairs, with Kai-Kai having no classes to go to, often outside of town. It was more like “making love”, with time to sit and chat both before and after. As was common, this procreator had made a picnic out of it; when Angela approached she saw the naked young Sire and the I-4, Maria Poggio of Catanzaro, Italy, on a blanket lunching on sandwiches out of a basket, with a glass of red wine next to Mrs. Poggio, who was brushing her disheveled hair, her knees still widely spread under her long, pretty red, white and green (Italy) dress. Angela, not hungry at the moment, accepted the offer of a string of grapes and sat down with them. She had heard that sometimes two procreators would get together and make it a lunch for three, with the other woman watching as Kai-Kai ejaculated into one and, after they ate and chatted and enjoyed the day, turned around to shoot the warm jets of his DNA into the other. Ms. Poggio knew only a few words of English and so there was not much conversation. But in between sandwich bites Kai-Kai asked Angela if she wanted to go hiking with him and his sister and a couple of friends. She couldn’t imagine saying no, and on the way back to her dorm shopped around for hiking boots.

 
 
 

Recent Posts

See All
Wendy Mac

Hank smiled as his girlfriend approached, tan and lithe and tall and purposeful and serious as always, though with a smile and a nice little wet kiss on the lips for him. For the tall dark-haired gir

 
 
 
the flat majorette

They were lucky. All the practice rooms were empty. He led her into the one in the back. Each room was tiny, with room for maybe three chairs and stands. They all had windows, but at least the one

 
 
 

Comments


Subscribe Form

Thanks for submitting!

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • LinkedIn

©2020 by donnylaja's blog. Proudly created with Wix.com

bottom of page