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The Storm on 29-05-2020 09:22:46

George decided to encourage the uncharacteristic garrulousness in Alison that the pheromone induced.

Unusual exhilaration and a girlish silliness she had buried years ago bubbled to her surface in an odd euphoria. She opened so much to him. The moments passed, the more she talked, the more uniquely personal she became.

Alison chattered and flirted, gazing at her pale reflection in the dark window. The glass pane clouded with moisture. It was stiflingly hot.

Without her noticing George stood and inched closer. He comfortably put his hands on her shoulders; so she knelt before him. His guiding touch strangely redolent of a first loves, and smiled into her face as he adjusted an extremely large bulge in his pants.

Alison saw the curved outline of his immense manhood strain against the fabric, reach above his left hip, and practically pop out the waistband of his trousers. A glimpse left Alison doubting her own eyes. His penis could not really be that large.

She realized something was changing with her. It was as if her inviting white skin had discovered its birth right.

A moment passed before Alison realized her nakedness and her vulnerability, her eyes wandering down his flat stomach with its ripped abs and then descending lower to his impossible manhood.

She couldn’t compose herself. She could not think straight anymore. She tried standing but couldn't. She gaped in disbelief and could not take her eyes off his penis. It was not even erect and it looked so big.

“Whoa, you’re in no condition to walk,” George said as he pulled the waist band out freeing his cock. She was everything he sought in a woman — a beautiful face, a perfect little body and white. Something about blonde white women in particular made George extra horny.

She stared at him with a vacant look.

This was the rich white reward for going to a Christian church and for all his patience, planning and persistence.

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