Then you’re all mine, and its all your fault.” He told her right at her ear, his voice cementing in her mind that all of this was not only her doi...g, but that she was the reason it kept going. “Jason.JASON.Jason.JASON” she heard the voice chanting in her head as she fucked herself against her brother’s hand. She felt the final ball slide inside of herself and when her first orgasm crashed into her she felt as though her world was shattering. “Jason.JASON.Jason.JASON.” the voice chanted over. I let myself go completely, giving myself to the experience. My back arched. Then I sat up straight and looked down at my man, into his wondrous expressive brown eyes that were telling me he loved me. I turned and moved off his face and started to suck his cock as I love to do. I wanted to demonstrate again my love for him. But he would not have just that. He quietly told me to move on top of him so he could lick my pussy as I sucked him. I acquiesced, knowing I would not be able to give him. "Puma, we can wait 'til we get home to get into action in our costumes. How about we both get into our night time costumes, and go get some fun?" I can't wait, Cheetah. My pussy is already yearning for some action. Stand back, and I'll get changed!" Puma started to spin once I'd backed off, and when she stopped, Klitty stood there in a black leather miniskirt, a bright red tube top, crotchless red fishnet tights, and black patent leather knee high "fuck me" boots, with pointed toes and 6 inch. Der Brief warf aber weit mehr Fragen auf, als er beantwortete. Wer hat das Tagebuch geschrieben und wann? Wer hat es dem Museum gespendet und in welcher Beziehung standen sie zu mir? Welches Museum möchte nicht ein Originaldokument aus dem 19. Jahrhundert besitzen, und warum könnte ein Tagebuch „weder zur Ausstellung noch zum Studium geeignet sein“?Der beste Ort, um diese Fragen zu beantworte, schien das in Leder gebundene Buch zu sein, das auf meinem Tisch lag, und ich löste mit ziemlicher.