Well the cops came, asking a bunch of stupid questions. They wanted to know what I knew but I wasn't talking. There was something I had seen in her ey...s that said keep quiet. The cops left shortly after being their usual sloppy selves. It never seemed to occur to them she might have been going to her car. Only one was left that could have run and I checked it out. Inside was a small handbag with a drivers license. It was her, Joan Smith, but the wasn't her real name. The picture matched and her. There were some wives of sailors in Houston who kept him until they had to pass him on because the voyages were ending, so he didn’t lack for companionship. He was pleased, of course, that the city women were knowledgeable about preventing conception.The next year his company transferred him to the eastern US route. He missed the many friends and acquaintances he’d made in the Midwest but it was his job and they weren’t plentiful right then.It was many years later that the Midwest territory. That sent the sixteen-year old girl over the top. Her body sweating, her breath coming in gasps, she climaxed, writhing hard against the sodomy, the burning, pulsing pleasure in her guts hurting so good. She let out a long cry, then another, felt warm wetness spreading inside her.Lauren looked up to see Finch’s eyes closed, his mouth open, his penis unloading inside her butt. She took his cum deep in her bowels, the teen’s boiling semen barely felt, but his orgasm all to intensely experienced.. Jack grinned. "Hamburgers. Too bad they don't have cheeseburgers." Who knew they made hamburgers in Rome?" Annie said."Someone must have. Isn't there a cookbook that survives from this time?" You're the archaeologist, Jack," Annie said. They both grinned. Annie said to the man, "What kind of nuts are those?"The cook looked surprised. "They're pine, miss."The burgers were actually good. After they were done, Annie said, "We still need to find that writing the Librarian wanted. A dark story in a.
Read MoreChantelle swung the flogger with accuracy and precision, controlling the tempo and the 'weight' of each stroke. The memory of Josephine's face, and of
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