Finally skimming toward the rear pages, the mask gone in the last set, she recognizes the face of the spread-eagled woman now being sexually assaulted...with her legs bound above her head to a bed board’s posters. It’s the face of one of his past girlfriends she’s met, her moist eyes with that reddened glow from a Polaroid photo, her rectum being stretched by a hooded man’s cock, his fingernails burrowing into, twisting, tugging her bruised breasts sadistically apart as he pounds at her. . Fortunately, a hero rose along with his reported mage wife, against the ogre king and killed him in what would be the final battle of the war. The ogre king killed scores of men before he met his match. It was a battle for the ages. The unknown swordsman struck blow after bloody blow. His mage wife peppered his flesh with jagged rocks and slowed his movements with the earth grabbing hold of him. The ogre was enraged at his inability to strike down his foes. He lunged at the mage with his bare. I barely made it to the bed and sat down with my back towards him, trying to control my breathing and my shaking. It took all the nerve I had left, to put my hand on his thigh. And I nearly jumped up, when I felt Timmy flinch, as if I had hit him. Oh my god, I was abusing my own son – I had to leave – now! Moms hand was still sitting on my thigh, no more than six or seven inches away from my pecker. My hardening pecker. Oh god – the towel is slipping! I was about to get up and leave, when I. But something in my gut told me that it wasn't the case. Something in me knew that I wasn't alone on this floor, but I had no idea who would be up here as well. I picked up the pace trying to get to the elevators. A low whistle came from behind me and my heart froze. I wasn't alone. I broke out into a run but I wasn't fast enough to escape from the attacker. I was pulled up and against a large body and a hand was slapped over my face. I fought against him. If I was going down, I wasn't going.