“I said nothing of the sort, merely that I was a witness to his death along with a young girl. Leading me to question any accusations coming from a ...oung boy that I was Sir Michael’s murderer. Addressing your other claims: Ogres from my homeland are much more civilized and have no taste for human flesh. If the humans are missing their whelps it’s not to end up on my dinner table. Livestock that wanders into my hunting grounds is a large and easy meal for me. I see no need to apologize for. I had to see this place for myself.One Saturday night, I convinced my friends I was staying in because I was too tired to go out. While they prepared for a night on the town, I pretended to get ready for bed: washing my face, brushing my teeth, getting into pyjamas. It was 12:30 by the time they left and I was finally alone. In a flurry, I got changed for the club, ran out the front door, and hailed a taxi. I was nervous. This was it. I was driving to a gay bar. All those days spent reading. They had brought a young man in to the building. They wanted us to have sex, but he thought that they would give him a place to stay and some food if he would do that with me. The guy was so emaciated that you could see his bones through his shirt. We were both around the same age. He was still wearing the blue flannel shirt that he had on when they brought him in to our building. After they put him in my room, they told him you know what you need to do if you want to eat. He walked up to me. Tears dwelled in Anne?s eyes as she saw them pour cinnamonoil over their fake dicks. They explained to her that she shouldn't getpleasure through a fucking, hence the oil, but they both smiled, letting Anneknow it was only an excuse to make her suffer more. They entered her holes atthe same time pounding Anne?s ass and pussy. The sheer size of their toolswould have been enough to make her suffer, but the oil made it an agonizingexperience. They fucked Anne for an hour while running their.