Good Morning Vietnam
Our month in Vietnam came and went faster than I had wanted. I still can’t get my mind around the fact that I will be home in 30 days. I didn’t really know what to expect when we arrived in Vietnam. My whole squad was stationed right in the middle of Tourist Central, Nam style. Our hotel was situated between countless souvenir shops, bootleg movie stores, and restaurants promising the best “Western” cuisine. Stepping out of the hotel I could see countless travelers, all loaded down with their backpacks searching for the next big adventure. To take one step away from the Hotel meant I was willing to risk certain death because the only thing worse than the heat and humidity in Vietnam is the motorbikes. To say that there are thousands of crazy motorists on the streets at all times, well that would be an understatement. Just going across the street to get some water was like playing a giant game of Frogger with my life. Not only were the streets filled with motorists, but add in countless vendors selling their latest catch, hundreds of peddlers selling odds and ends, flashing disco lights, endless carhorns, the constant smell of fish, and a temperature that always stayed above 100 degrees and you get the idea of what it was like walking of our hotel every morning.
Despite the business and constant sensory overload, I really enjoyed our month in Vietnam. Vietnam is technically a closed country, which means it is illegal to evangelize. It also means that it is illegal to gather together for any sort of meeting without the government’s approval. So while is it technically not illegal to be a Christian, it is difficult for Christians to gather together for worship and share their faith with people. There are some government approved churches in Vietnam, but these churches have to follow strict government protocol, and don’t leave much room for freedom. These circumstances provided us with an array of different ministries. I got the chance to go to the countryside and visit underground churches. Here we did discipleship with the youth, encouraged the congregations, and shared our testimonies about what the Lord is doing all over the world. I sat as I heard one pastor’s story of beginning his church at the age of 19. At this time the government was great opposed to Christianity, and every time the government found out he had a convert, he had to work countless hours in the tiring heat for days on end without food. The pastor said it was grueling work, but he smiled the whole time because he knew one of his little sheep had found their way home. The commitment and devotion of these pastors absolutely humbled me and encouraged me to pray for the Underground Church all over the world.
One of my favorite ministries was going to the many different orphanages and children’s homes in Ho Chi Minh. I got to hold tiny precious babies who were infected with HIV, dance and sing with children with mental disabilities, and love on kids who did not have a mother or father. I absolutely loved getting to love on all of these precious ones. One of my favorite memories was when I was playing with two boys who had mental disabilities. We were walking through a Buddhist Temple and suddenly I had an idea. I reached into my bag and pulled out my two cameras. I placed one around each of their necks and they proceeded to dance and squeal as they spent the next hour taking pictures of every single thing they could. I loved watching a passion of mine be able to touch other people’s lives.
Our month in Vietnam flew by like a Vietnamese motorist on a mission. I am thankful for all of the time I got to spend there, and am blessed to have gotten to meet so many incredible individuals with unwavering passion for Christ admits a country devoted to a god made by man’s hands.
And now we’re on to Cambodia.
On to 30 more days of the Race.
On to one more big adventure before I get home.
Here’s to going out with a bang – Kingdom style.
Factor well regarded!.
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I was surprised He wasn’t angry. He said,” boy you wait here, I am going to the bathroom.” He closed the door. He must sit on the toilet with pants down because I heard him losing the belt but didn’t hear him peeing. After a while, he called my name,” get in here ass sniffing slut.” I opened the door and crawled to the side of daddy. Daddy was still sitting on the toilet. . Just when I was confused why he sat that and did nothing. He stood up and pulled his pants up. I did take a peep of daddy’s huge uncut Middle Eastern dick. Half hard like 7inches already. While he was doing that, he grabbed my hair pushed right into the toilet, and closed the lid. “ smell my ass from there boy when it is still fresh.” He paused and continued, “ Don’t move.” polskie porno The pre-cum leaks, like a babbling brook, from the boy’s erect and pulsing cock, depositing its tiny droplets of juice onto the arm-hairs of his proud father. His father squeezes the nuts of his son, tighter and tighter, releasing more of the youthful essence.
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He lifts his head from its bowed stance and looks into the eyes of his father wanting some acknowledgement. https://arturzasada.pl/ – gay sex porn “Stoke your cock while you sniff that jock.”
Daddy gave me a look implying his shoes are needed to be removed. “Can I take off your loafers, daddy ?” I asked so quietly. He looked at me and nodded. I took off both his loafers and put them away neatly in front of me. Daddy then raised his right leg and stepped on my forehead, pushing me down into his loafers. It is a mixed smell with sweat, testosterone, and leather. I couldn’t help but take a big whiff every time I breathed. “Hands-on the floor” he commanded. He moved his feet from my head to my hands. “Kiss them and make the stink goes away using only your fag tongue.” “Yes sir.” filmy porno “Have you fucked, son? Have you fucked? Have you dumped that seed of yours in those balls into a moist hole?” His father asks as he leans forward on the commode-chair. His hand squeezing the bulge growing larger in his tan khakis.
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“I knew ya couldn’t keep your hands off it.” His dad says. “Men can’t do it, we are drawn to our cocks, like a moth to a flame, and usually that burning sensation that a man feels is the cum boiling up in our balls. You know that feelin’ doncha son?” His dad takes a seat upon the closed commode lid.
“Do it!” His dad orders. “See this; see this. “His father says. “This is where power comes from.”
“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway. Garrett can see what his father is doing, unconsciously his hands moves to his cock. He strokes the length of his tool with his left hand while he teases the blistering red crown with the fingertips of his right hand. The lightning of his cool fingertips sends sparks through every nerve in his body.
His dad’s cock does not curve like that of his son, it angles like a fishing rod looking for fish under rushing river waters, from the deep furry patch between the father’s legs. “Let me get in there, Garrett.” His father says, as his son steps aside so he can get into the shower enclosure.
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I was surprised He wasn’t angry. He said,” boy you wait here, I am going to the bathroom.” He closed the door. He must sit on the toilet with pants down because I heard him losing the belt but didn’t hear him peeing. After a while, he called my name,” get in here ass sniffing slut.” I opened the door and crawled to the side of daddy. Daddy was still sitting on the toilet. . Just when I was confused why he sat that and did nothing. He stood up and pulled his pants up. I did take a peep of daddy’s huge uncut Middle Eastern dick. Half hard like 7inches already. While he was doing that, he grabbed my hair pushed right into the toilet, and closed the lid. “ smell my ass from there boy when it is still fresh.” He paused and continued, “ Don’t move.” “I knew ya couldn’t keep your hands off it.” His dad says. “Men can’t do it, we are drawn to our cocks, like a moth to a flame, and usually that burning sensation that a man feels is the cum boiling up in our balls. You know that feelin’ doncha son?”
“I think all of us were sprouting wood, today, dad.” He says. “Coach even noticed how hard we all were.” “Have you fucked, son? Have you fucked? Have you dumped that seed of yours in those balls into a moist hole?” His father asks as he leans forward on the commode-chair. His hand squeezing the bulge growing larger in his tan khakis.
He does not answer but tilts his head down in an almost subservient nature to his father. “Back in the day, back before we turned into a modern society, a man would grab another man’s balls and swear an oath on them in his hand and state his words to be true. To be a friend” His father says. “Do you know what I mean, son?”
His son bucks on the lid as he turns beet red from his carnal machinations. “Then, what is this, father.” He says as he wrestles his cock in a fierce grip and squeezes it like he is fighting against a serpent unleashed from its coil.
“I figured you did.” His father says. “You play on a team, so you know the purpose of teamwork.” “This is what a man looks like, son.” His father says as his pants fall to the floor. From his waist out pops his representation of a 40-year-old-man. And father of two teenage boys. His cock.
“FUCK! FUCK!” He says, as he loosens the tightened grip on his fleshy-red-tool, while it throbs with its life-giving blood coursing through its many vein-filled region. He gulps once as his dad mounts more pressure on his balls. Squeezing them.
“You have not fucked, have you, my son? Have you?” His father asks, as he readjusts the cock covered and swelling in his khaki pants. “I thought as much.” Garrett nods to his father.
His father steps into the shower, turning on the water. As he soaks and lathers himself up under the lukewarm stream of water, he fondles his cock and balls. His cock soon mimics that of his son. The sound of the shower echoes throughout the empty house. The bathroom door is open. He knows he has privacy. He is alone. No older brother. No father. Or mother. It is just him.
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“Stoke it, boy! Stroke it! Stroke that beautiful cock!” His father demands as his own cock draws on the wet interior of the glass enclosure shower. “Pound it harder, boy! Pound it harder!”
That night, I did a whole spa routine to make sure my skin was soft and my ass was stretched and wet. I was wearing nothing but a jockstrap as I was told. Waiting by the door on fourth. My heartbeat was so fast as my mouth was dry. I heard the footstep approaching. I left the door unlocked as one of the instructions I was received from daddy. He stepped in with his size 10 Christian Loublitine loafer where my eyes were going up from there. When I made eye contact with daddy, daddy slapped me across the face and said, “Bad boy, Where the fuck are your sneakers as I told you to wear tonight.” I was trembling and said in a very low voice, “ sorry daddy I fooooorgot.”
I used my teeth to strip off daddy’s black sheer socks. I placed them in my mouth and washed them with my saliva. I swallowed every single sweat and stink from these socks. It takes so well. I rolled them into a ball and stuck them into my jockstrap where my small dick and balls were.
“That is your cock, son.” His father, says. “…but it does not make you a man. It only makes you a boy with a hard cock in his hand.”
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All the blood rushes from his brain to his throbbing erection plus the heat of the shower, making the young lad, light-headed.
“That you, son?” A voice chimes in from the hallway.
“Yeah, dad, it’s me.” He shouts over the blistering rush of the shower spray as it pelts him hotly with force. “It was a rough practice.”
“Lookin’ good, son. Lookin’ good.” His dad says over the stream of the warm cleansing water as it caresses his mature man body.
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