Dreams

The big black cock is the king and all polish wives and daughters know to kneel before it.

"When Polish ladies get down?"

"It is around the clock."

"Let's fuck away from the pain."

Prostitution was the first profession on our planet and I spoke cheerfully with my cousing back home in our native Africa.

^.^

"What you fock?"

My African pride made a question to the Polish Overlord henchman to find out if he is a true man.

I was correct about him but before my true journey in an adventure I joined a Polish logistics agency and I made my way to the warehouse with no strings attached.

I had my way to sharpen a tool of war.

I only had a one-night lover and her name was Ren from a British Philippines family in London.

She was a great small love machine who did nurse her patients in Spanish conversation.

I took her to a double bedroom one night from the last train after university campus laboratory studies.

The library laboratory was silent thinking about us in the very night.

"Where are you from?"

I asked the Asian cutie sitting opposite me in the interrail carriage.

"I am from the Philippines."

"I am a university student at North London University."

"I am a nurse near there working in a hospital."

Her gaze intensified, examining me with her Spanish eyes.

I felt uncomfortable and I thought to have a funny moment.

"I had friends in the Philippines who had to bribe local police officers because they got caught drinking beer in Manila's public space before their departure back to London."

Her explanation and joy about it were not possible.

They had a fine to pay and made us both have the very moment of joy before she knew it was her stop to leave the carriage.

She stood up and walked to open sliding doors looking back at me.

I had sharp eyes touch each other's souls. I stood up last in the night and escorted her safely back home to her house.

We both lost control from the intensified moment we felt the very rush we walked in and threw our jackets to sides not holding any protection in our pockets.

I slide my arms letting her in our bed for the night.

We kissed. I touched her back, letting my arms reach her bra.

It became loose as I love it.

She was frail from her temptation. I waited no more. I had her chest loose to have my hands work forward her chest.

The nipples and chest cup were small but her nipples erecting as I felt in my trousers she was resting her knee softly massaging in me.

I am having further temptation to let her let out my love dragon loose to see the world.

I had her on a white bed lining my black trousers and let our magic moment have our freedom to the night.

She was lying in bed. I was looking in her eyes not letting my left arm from zipping and black belt, to fasten loose my belt, open button and zip steal zipper off pulling a little open my white underwear in saliva to cover our hard friend.

She had no moments to look, how she was using her arm stroking me hard, other pushing my back closer kissing me.

I was anxious the moment she had her clothes off and swung her flower pattern underwear to bloom our love before our eyes. I made my way in with her help with little finger licks opening.

I thought about those losers outside never meeting and making love.

I knew a good business university school had its advantage in particular looking for single mothers to crave young talents outside their workplace.

I had in her my steam streaking out. I enjoy soft muscle tissue training and she gasps forward and backward like it was a long time we both fell in love.

I made my way to our epic point. In the journey she agreed with our eyes I pulled it out, gasping to let her sit and swallow her lips to finish our hard work.

She was taking everything in not letting a drop spill leaving no trace like it never did happen between us.

She stroked once more. I knew she had her mouth full but it was hard like a treetop pointing out her.

The night I made out the juice 9 times we had love.

I had myself out her mouth ask her to sit backwards I could see if the trust is behind our backs to have loved a second time.

"You turn backwards in a Doggystyle. I want to do it."

Smiles brushes her lips and sits up not able to speak with good manners in full mouth.

I am sliding in her once more creating pressure in my lungs letting force below me concentrate on penetrating her.

She did make her way to guide me further. I slip in a knot to have her massage way further.

It was a complicated job upon her up further I squeeze her necklet her blood pressure open her bloodstream tension laying further my neck breathe further her neck she was gasping for air I was forcing ourselves together to a meeting point.

I did slam her hips, her saliva coming out her leaking our legs and arms. I brush my hand to taste our honey and smile and both start laughing. I did it.

"I do not feel lonely." I made a joke about us.

She out of breath voice said she was ok and pushed gazing away to space her eyes pressing her bottom backwards assisting our mutual climax.

It was great to pull off her letting white cream on the bed. We slept not worrying well the night every time I felt her warmth I made her join me.

I knew in the morning I shower before I left without asking her name. We could feel confident strangers in the night from the last train carriage.

When I took the morning train carriage my earpieces were playing. I was listening to my favourite song in This Love.

I never knew the next love bait will be a passionate gipsy from native Dracula castle.

*.*

Her magical gipsies eyes made me fall for her hanging out tissues with a note she cannot speak and would like to ask to donate to her.

I made her day.

The 20-pound sterling note was a crispy smooth finish from the cash machine I took out of the very weekend underground train journey home back to our house in east London.

With her bright eyes, she follows me outside in the intimate moment I was looking for. I made my way in her.

She was an experienced Romanian gipsy, she did show signs of cellulitis but I slid her loose underwear to the side I could push in my big bad bull.

Her jeans were halfway off in a street corner between cafe and newsagent I found comfortable.

The blue paper bin did conceal us halfway and her tissue did our job right to wipe away our tears of joy.

It did leak from us. It was enough tissue to clean our foreheads from sweat.

I took my black sabre out and stroked it with tissue in my hand.

I wiped her love carefully letting my hands softly caress her tired butt.

I love the way her head rise upholding both hands against red bricks she rose her head turning to me in her wet black hair to smile.

"Thank you."

"I need it too."

We both pulled our pants up, closing our buttons and fastening our belts. I gently slap her but was way out to appreciate her.

I made adjustments to her cream knit top button helping her to slide in her breast back to fit her white bra.

I was able to see her joy in her black eyes.

The pound sterling we shared in her day she was selling her tissues for tears.

^.^

The Oxford field trip deed seemed like another necessity deemed unfit to our collegiate scholars to greet other football teams in their union hall but I met her.

The Oxford union advertisement Rams club did make a great location to deflower her sunflower playing love.

I did repair her broken wings with the pressure on my hips.

It was the love story taking its toll breaking before me.

The love tool had no choice.

^.^

I heard the Polish President's wife was working on a double shift with SAS Garrison to repay protection money.

I love these polish aubergines on www.letsfockthem.eu website when I was busy browsing my study materials.

It was a great lesson in history.

*.*

I had her great smile make me spread her never refusing me saying be quiet, my mother or father will hear us making me naked in her bedroom upstairs pushing me in slowly forcing me to keep sounds low.

I will tell you a lot later about her juicy details until I complete the Amsterdam hell hole story of my life I became a premature victim for.

Amsterdam is a sex capital and pussies pays well.

I came here from overseas.

I am here to see the second European economic capital after London was closed.

I know we have two in the European Union, Amsterdam and Frankfurt but the juiciest business is found in Amsterdam.

It is like a double blow job in Europe.

But I am telling a story, about how to pick polished locks, gain love and happiness.

I love my friends with benefits. They are great in Amsterdam, the second European sex capital the European economical hub.

It feels good to lift them on my heavy love bar. It is like going to a gym but a much better story only between men and women.

I love to work in their fuse box unlocking Amsterdam secrets.

I knew the modelling whores were not the right place no matter how much they tempted me to raise high temperatures to obtain my balls.

They felt my black magic is only for raw polish women. Once I cleared their throats I learned a very important lesson.

I declined a modelling career offer and left with a one-way ticket to work in a global superpower of shipping containers moving cargo in a European love nest.

The Netherlands was a swamp made of shipping lanes, full of trucks and train lines making every city a possible cargo port far from the sea.

I knew I would never raise my children in whores house full of narcotics nor buy anything in a nest of Satan but will have my love further away once I conquer my demons.

They knew it was like every one lonely sailor's dream.

You were unable to find any juicier meat from Poland to Amsterdam brothels.

The men are working hard in any job because monkeys would never replace them while their wives are great spreaders in brothels working double shifts.

I was young and naive, we just graduated from an English university to believe we have good sex you can come back to normality.

She was a thick polish lady with a rainbow pink wig holding her legs apart from me in the window display.

I thought to myself it was a great installation in Amsterdam's red-light district and I made a visit to see it inside.

I love window shopping but sometimes you must spend good money to have it your way.

But it was quarantine time and their vaginas were tight therefore I chose to see them at home in the Homeland of Polish honey.

I was sure it would be a great time.

Her name was Justina and she was a great first-time spread.

I was not able to reject her logistics expertise and how she shifted forms in her bed.

It was my job after we graduated.

I am Bradley Mat and I am happy to meet you. I am from Congo and this is my story.

-.-

I am a straight success grade student from London to Poland.

I had my first real Polish hunt with a shopkeeper before I met Justina in Amsterdam.

I found her behind a foreign supermarket stool feeling depressed before I massaged her open in her shop's stockroom.

It was then that I learned the true meaning. "Polish kurva."

When I fell in love loving Poland. They feel so great when I am inside their cash register.

I had great dreams to squirt in the British Royal household or Baltic's Presidential Office but I am done dreaming and feel great in Poland.

It is like in other places they say. "It is the magic of gaijin cream."

I am a great manufacturer from birth in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

"I know I am like this crazy sex scientist thinking to inject you happiness jab story."

I am a true Congolese man in British education performing only at midnight.

But their reality struck me hard like a blow of a hammer behind my waist.

"I am going to them like SAS, Rob Dutch should not know about it. The African black shaman magic from the minister of England has the intelligence and power to have his henchmen guessing who is the man."

Justina Valentine is my dream come true to open the locked doors to wider planes. I have Poland's Overlord's made fake Prophets to their women fake prophecy.

I thought to myself the very moment she walked in behind me in the men's toilet below the staff lunchroom I had her lift open below the men's urinal bin. Later I discharged her.

I knew the local managing director was hungry too in his cartoon dreams thinking he should lift his trouble and worries too.

The half-Dutch the half-Polish logistics recruitment manager and company founder did make a statement. He was a stain in our lives. We outlived him, sustaining our foremost ultimate weapon.

My African love juicy in a honey nest they can never be resistant to let in their hearts.

*.*

I signed contracts forbidding me to drink, never refuse overtime work and never speak with my employer about my agency work from Poland.

It was a job with the Polish Overlord.

He broke every rule I was made to keep. He never paid me with hidden laws including hiding our employment contracts under a digital application he controlled, spying on our mobile phone messages, pictures, information and content, our phone calls and both mobile cameras.

His henchmen could abuse us in power. When his henchmen kept hidden cameras in our triple share bedrooms.

Rob Dutch resolved in testing and keeping us under control in slavery in the narcotics he tested from Columbia.

Our Prime Minister Mark Rudolf was a chicken.