? She watched as he turned and sawthe dozen red roses on the table just inside the opulent suite. He nodded andshe reached out and took the little car... lifting it. ?Amy trustme, do exactly as Misha says. You promised. Your lovinghusband Keane.? It was his writing she glanced back up then down at thecard. ?Ok,? she whispered. Misha felt a tug in his heart,Keane, had won again. Even this delicate little female could feel the power inhim. Amy squealed as Misha swung her up,then gently set her on. The Boston Police Department had four cruisers tailing them. Oh, and there was a news van and a helicopter videotaping the chase. They came barreling through the park and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I got shot seventeen times. On national television. Talk about bad luck. Luckily, I survived. Not only did I survive, I didn’t have a scratch on me. For some reason, the bullets couldn’t penetrate my skin. That was on September 13, 1998. The entire world watched me get shot and. Our house in Spain is a conversion of a finca on the outskirts of a small village perched above Carboneras in Almeria, and just far enough away from the bustle of the coast. My wife and I often share a good bottle of Rioja in the evenings, watching the dusk fall. Time has been kind to both of us, our health is good, and the years have not dulled our sexual appetites. It was a balmy late June evening, we’d eaten at home, a simple meal, and were sitting on the patio, where we had a couple of. ” My eyes stared at his hard cock bobbing as he wrote on his clipboard. His Black monster pointed right at me. I licked my mouth. “Now we wait to make sure the reaction is stable.”“Of course,” he nodded eagerly. He lowered his clipboard, dark eyes staring down at my naked breasts with such hunger. My clit throbbed. My thighs, crossed, squeezed tight, savoring the ache from my nub. “Do you have any tasks for me?”“An experiment,” I purred. “To see if you can lick my pussy to orgasm.”“We’ve done.