A continuous round of festivals and hell-bent evenings of insanity occupied Valerie Hart's Mexican holiday. Especially when the strange man in the cantina dipped soap in warm water, pulled her pants down, and lathered her ass. It was a spontaneous flirtation. At least that's the way Valerie accepted the gesture, and so they took their leave to quieter places. They went back to his hacienda, and the man showed Valerie his collection of Mexican poetry with lewd rhymes about burros. She found the evening entirely weird until he pulled his dick out. Valerie then blew a sigh of relief because this was the first normal situation she had encountered since she got off the ox cart.

The saying goes that love's a two-way street. Then, again, the college professor who came up with that brilliant idea probably never met Gianna. Being a lovely woman of full breasts with ass and hips to match, Gianna, like the advertising jingle goes, has it her way. Men don't argue with her- they just go along with the program. For a piece of that ass, you probably would, too. Like the time when Gianna told this raving lunatic he could have her in the holy bonds of matrimony if he bought her a house and paid off her credit cards. Which he did, and they had a party to celebrate. Laugh riot that she is, Gianna invited her best friend over- Calvin, a free safety for some pro football team. Calvin and Gianna scrimmaged while her hapless spouse in name only just stood there watching. Most guys would have caught on that they had been played and packed it up. But when Gianna told him to go out for one of Calvin's wet passes, he asked how far. He found out real quick.

Oh that face. Oh, that body. Oh, that ass. We're all in agreement. Kirra Lynne is a livin' doll, but it's just too bad you're a white man. Because, under her guidelines, Kirra don't even know you're alive. Sure, you could probably torch a banquet hall with one of your exquisitely rendered farts. And that probably got the ugliest cheerleader on the high squad to go out with you. But not Kirra. And you could probably dance- but no dice if your name ain't James Brown. Check that ass out, again. You could be having that right now- Kirra spreading those playful cheeks on your lap. But you ain't a brother. And because of that, we would kill ourselves right now if we were you.