Reminds Me Of My Time In Mozambique With... mp4

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Logically, if the heart stops (that moment before I died), then the flow of blood to the brain ceases, If the brain stops, then there cannot be a memory.For the next few weeks, I was shit scared to do anything; rehab soon set me straight on that thought, “You’re not sick get the finger out and exercise” So a rigorous regime of torture was implemented. A brisk walk around the rehab centre for 15minutes, then hand weights for 5 minutes then the step up for another 10, then stretches. Shit, I’ve just had two major heart attacks.The rehab became easier and to tell the truth, I felt better than I had been for years. I started walking around the lake twice a week and found walking tracks I never knew existed.SOMS, silly old man syndrome. I became over confident as the years went by, “I can do it”, then one day I found ‘I can do it’ did me. My wife has a small electric mobility scooter, she was down the town shopping when I got a call “The darn battery is flat.” So off I went, sure enough. I stuck my thumb between her ass cheeks and peeled them apart. My splayed fingers were sinking deep into her right ass cheek as I spread it open as far as her spongy flesh would allow. I kept a firm grip on my dick with my right hand as I once again thrust my hips toward her. Paydirt! I felt my cock head slide up her crack and spilt her lips apart. The juices from our previous activities were still lingering between those meaty lips! I felt a very slick hotness as the head of my cock slid further along her slit. I was in a very awkward position so I let go of her ass cheek and keeping my cock firmly between her pussy lips I let go of it also. I put my left arm back under my body and I wrapped my right arm around her waist and crooked my elbow so I could get my hands up to her fleshy tits. I started to pump my hips. I was getting a little more frantic, trying desperately to get my cock up in her pussy before I came. She began to stir a little, slowly coming out of her slumber. As.
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‘I never tire of the beauty of this place.’ It was all I could think of to say. ‘I was always surprised you left,’ she said. ‘Are you off, now?’ I asked. ‘Um-hmm.’ ‘How about a coffee? Maybe something Irish?’ ‘Sounds about nice, Tom.’ I held out my hand and she took it, and I walked with her into the Inn. _______________________________ We sat in the old bar, our truce holding firm. Logs popped in the fireplace, the dancing light played on her face, and she really did look as beautiful as I remembered. ‘So, did you ever marry?’ she asked me after a while. ‘No. Never saw the need. How ’bout you?’ ‘Once. Didn’t take.’ ‘Someone up here?’ ‘No, that Drake kid – from Britain. You remember? He had that Swan, was going to go around the world.’ ‘Oh, yeah. Him? That I would have never guessed, Pat. What happened?’ ‘I don’t know. Just your run-of-the-mill abusive Brit. Hated women, loved his mother. That kinda thing.’ ‘How long did that last?’ ‘Ah, not quite a year. We made it down to the.

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