Mary cried when she was taken back to her cell. Seven years would pass before Mary would send her first letter home. Bombay 1954. Mary sat on a...bench outside of the courthouse, looking at her reflection in a puddle. The once beautiful and young woman was now ugly and beat up. The female inmates and the guards had abused Mary while she was in prison. The Indian woman in prison hated the British just as much as woman on the outside. Mary now has a black eye on her once perfect face; her. “Yes!” She screeched and went rigid, as I kept thrusting up inside her. Her orgasm was over-whelming in its ferocity.I came then, filling her depths with my cum. She flopped down on me, and I lowered her back to the bonnet, my strength was drained, my legs were shaking.After a short while, she spoke, “Believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve ever had sex with anyone, I’ve imagined what it’s like in my mind, I’ve got a small collection of porno vids, which I get myself off to, but never a. ”“Or should?”“That’s up to Andy. It’s not just me, Andy has to be part of whatever I do. Andy has to decide about the 'should' part.”~ ~ ~ ~ ~The next week the house was full of suspense. There was no need for Andy to ask what was on the two girls minds, his best move was to make space, keep out of the way and wait for developments.Andy knew Marsha had called during the day, in midweek and had a long talk with Candy, or maybe she was talking to Candice, or some kind of hybrid. He spent. I walked up to the driver's door and tried to see inside. Blackness. I knocked lightly and heard something click. The door slid back."Well, come on, sailor - the meter's running."I stepped up and slid the door closed behind me as I scuttled across the seat. Her hand reached from behind me, through a black curtain, and found my wrist. "Back here."I turned and stepped through the curtain. I heard a door slide shut and then a dim light went on.The inside of the bakery truck had been turned into a.