But that is not the reason that I pen this letter to you today.I no longer possess my stockings and I am bereft. I have felt more and more depressed w...thout them, but in this day and age, what with the war and all that, good quality silk is rare on the open market, especially here, in France. Of course, it is all my own fault; I shouldn’t have worn them under my camouflage trousers out on patrol and whilst struggling through that damned barb-wire, what with Jerry shooting at us. Subsequently, I. My pussy was fucking on auto pilot, sucking and slurping his shiny black and stiff shaft. Grunting like a wild bear, he suddenly spurted his burning seed into my fertile womb, taking me by surprise. I felt that steaming hot liquid hitting my cervix.Reaching back, he pulled his long shaft out as I took hold of that wonderful heavy weapon; twelve inches just for my wet cunt…He leaned and kissed me awake, saying in his deep voice, that I was the best sluttiest married white bitch he had ever. More

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