.. and she imagines some guy with a gun... pointing right at her belly.... "Put your hands on your head!" she obeys the order..... but he is still poi...ting the gun at her... except it's not her belly really..... it's Jemma Craven's Belly.... and she feels the hot...burning impact as the slug chews into her below her navel... Ariel falls to her hands and knees.... feeling the pain of the imaginary bullet..... and sobs in anger and frustration.... and for the first time she thinks maybe. “These ladies say you are slavers, taking them against their will, making hoors out of them. What say you?”There was a resentful silence, and then one man, a big buff man of indeterminate color and creed spoke up. “I don’t say nothin’ to no black Yankee bastard,” he rumbled and spat on the deck. There was a murmur of assent.Fulton’s expression changed from professional concern to irritation to amusement. “Well, boys, I guess this concludes this interview. Yeoman,” he said to one of the American. Fathima knew what I was thinking and quickly said, “Don’t worry, Rajesh, I won’t let that happen. I explained what happened between us and what I found in you which I couldn’t find in her brother. As a lady herself, she understood and consoled me for having a lousy husband. But she asked me for an unusual request.”“What did she ask, Fathima,” I asked her to know what she demanded from her.“While explaining about you, I told her about your cock and how you satisfied me which I couldn’t get from. Finally, you push your cock slowly into my virgin tight pussy, and I let out a long approving moan. You pull out, all the way to the head of your cock, and thrust back inside me hard, fast, and you hold yourself buried deep inside my pussy as I squirm against your cock, pushing back, dying for more. You grab my hips and start thrusting in and out of my pussy, harder and faster with each thrust until you find a fast, rough pace, while I scream in pleasure and grab fistfuls of the sheets..
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