Stop Crying, My Love

Mr. Duende returned home one day to see his wife, Yasmine, deep in conversation with a sizeable African American gentleman regarding their insurance requirements. The scene was quite daunting.

Evidently, she believed that her spouse had not adequately secured her future, fearing that in the event of a break-in, he would not be able to provide any semblance of security. She deemed it her prerogative to embarrass her diminutive husband by showcasing what a seductive temptress like Yasmine could encounter. In an instant, the insurance agent might burst through the door and take her in a suggestive grasp, akin to a brazen politician.

Matters would promptly escalate, delving into lewd territory. He would flaunt his considerable ebony member and coerce her into slurping on it before plunging it into her drenched cavern. In every nook and cranny, he would ravish Mr.

Duende's spouse, assuming varied positions in plain view of the voyeuristic man. Astonishingly, he would proficiently manage to advertise and market the insurance policy to him as well.