What type of name is that? If only I could just change my name, I don't know to what, but anything besides mine. At least I am able to get away with n...t using either of my surnames, which both share horrible history.I'm still not sure why I kept this journal all these years; my horrible handwriting will just make me forget how to decipher this entry of mine a few days from now and I can't even remember why I keep this thing. Maybe it just kept me sane for all these years as an emotional. I can feel the beginnings of an orgasm starting to build up inside me, telling you not to stop you carry on working your tongue getting faster and faster on my clit! A moan escapes my lips and I grip the bed sheets, the waves of an orgasm are beginning to rip through my body, I put on hand on your head forcing you into me as I shake as the orgasm hits me, I scream as I cum into your mouth! I lie exhausted as you move to lie next to me; I smile at you and lean across to whisper in your ear! . Right in the kisser! She mused as she saw her target crumple with a bloodied nose and lips. She turned just in time to see a knife being thrusted at her. The third kidnapper's attack was slow and awkward. Tifa avoided it easily. The move left him open. She made a successful grab at his loose shirt and lifted him off the ground like he was nothing. With little effort, she threw the shocked man into a heap of trashcans and filth. Like all the others, the third guy was down and out cold.Tifa felt. ‘Where did you learn that?’ ‘Learn what?’ ‘That, back at the bar—the karate, or…or… kung Fu, or… whatever the hell that was!’ she exploded from her quiet shell, almost yelling by the end of the outburst. Then there was silence. She was breathing hard after her little rant. I could tell that it concerned her—almost scared her—that I had bested a man so much bigger than me, even if he had been thoroughly drunk. ‘It’s called Bartitsu. It’s a mixed martial art that originated in 1800s Britain as a.