"Show that bitch how a man gets down." Another said.I could see Abbie eyeing them and then looking at me as if to say no. However I wasn't in control,...I wanted to get away from here with my girlfriend safely. Yet the dominant side in me would not. He wanted to oblige the drunken gentle men's request.I removed my cock from her throat and with one hand collected all the slobber and spit. I grabbed her up and slathered it across her face to the cheers from the drunkards. I grabbed her tits and. Spent hours stroking her back hoping it would lead to something. Gradually i would slide a finger and thumb under her nightie and squeeze her nipples whilst she sleptSometimes she would stir slightly and so i would stop and wait for her breathing to become deep againEver so slowly i would then rub her pussy, at the top by the clit, as she was too sensitive elsewhere initially and would instantly wake and demand to know what i was up toYet as soon as i felt her juices coming through the panties. I didn't go into town, I just stayed up in the hills watching the grave yard. The day I heard the church bells I watched but didn't see Amy's mom in the grave yard but I did see a little girl standing by the graves.I really couldn't see her that well, I could only tell it was a girl because of the dress. That night I went to the grave yard and put wild flowers on Amy's and Emily's graves. Every night that week I would do the same thing. The next Sunday I watched and what looked like the same. The man received the gesture, shaking her hand lightly. His touch was cold and clammy almost, something Britney was surprised at since it was so hot down here under the stage. "I'm Robert and yes, I'm a photographer for the magazine," the man said in a gravely, deep voice. Britney got a closer look at him now - his face looked rather haggard and torn, with acne scars and a slight scar from a cut extending from his upper lip at a 45 degree angle towards his cheek. The man had to have been at.