Each letter and each word was like a picture. She could compose a memo to communicate but it was a complex visual undertaking for her, with rules that...seemed arbitrary and couldn’t be translated from visual or tactile relationships. And the results, being more like a montage than a letter, tended to confuse those who read them. Her art and sculpture, on the other hand, flowed from her fingers like a playful, babbling brook from a spring. Indeed, she made her living as an artist and was in town. He was putting more force in as well, his mighty sack was slapping at her as he thrust himself into her again and again. She hated herself for it. But she came. Her orgasm burst over her, she had never cum so hard before. Careful not to risk crying out again, she satisfied herself with groaning and moaning as quietly as possible. It was not easy. He was filling her 15 year old pussy so well. It occurred to her in that state of orgasmic bliss, she never wanted that cock to leave her pussy. Her. “Terrible,” he agrees, and commences putting the finishing touches on his ‘painting’.The myriad of sensations assailing my body are almost too much to bear; the cool rumbled sheets under my flushed and aching body, the fabric of the ties cutting into my wrists, the friction of his stubble against my skin, the press of his fingers into my hip and the gentle swirl of the sticky, warm chocolate mixed with the scrape of the licorice. All of my senses are in overdrive; the smell of all the treats. "Do you know who I am," he asked."Yeah James Smiley, accountant and child molester," Lucas said before I could."Do you know who my clients are?" he asked."Actually we do know some of them," Lucas said. Playing the expert on such things. "After al that was who he was supposed to be, and in reality was."I could have you two killed with a phone call." he said trying to hold up."Would these clients of yours know that you are borrowing their money to make risky investments?" Lucas asked. "Look, I.