He dressed the part of a southern lawyer and carried himself with the dignity of a southern gentleman.We drove in silence to Mama's Diner. Seriously - Mama's. I remember David Brenner joking that you should never eat at a place named Mama's and never take a waiters suggestion after ten p.m. That joke was on my mind as we walked in and seated ourselves.The place was well worn. There were old photos and even older posters around the dining room, which gave it a friendly, homey kind of feel. There was a smattering of people having lunch but it was not crowded. A woman, who had to be the famous Mama, almost ran out of the kitchen to greet Mr. Bell and I watched, amused as she hugged, kissed, hugged again, kissed him yet again and exclaimed over and over how happy she was to him.When her joy was finally fulfilled, Mama turned to me and demanded Mr. Bell tell her what he doing out with such a beautiful young boy. No kidding. She actually referred to me as – beautiful, young and a boy. At. However, there must have been some fondness for her left in him, in it. A vague memory of her wishes, her pleas, not enough for him to let her go, to treat her kindly. But enough that, when the most solid piece of him slotted between her legs, it bypassed her virgin, clenched pussy completely, leaving it undisturbed. Instead, its head pressed against the tiny pucker of Agnes’ asshole, vulnerable and helpless.“Wha-at, AHHH!” The young woman screamed as her most intimate, forbidden place was breached.The tip of Victor’s member was thankfully narrow, as it couldn’t have made its way inside her tense body otherwise. But it tapered off sharply, pushing her more and more open with each inch. The penetration was excruciatingly dry, her anus not made to welcome or withstand an invasion like that. Victor’s plasmatic form clearly wasn’t designed for it either.“PLEA-ASE!” Agnes hollered as it pushed bowels-deep in her, forging ahead without pulling back. “SSSTOP!” Her pleading was as loud as she.
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