The weekend came and in the evening I went to pick her up. She was wearing the same Rashi’s dress. She had not returned the dress.We went to a pub n...arby and spent a couple of hours there. It was almost midnight so I went to drop her safely to her flat. I dropped her in front of the building and was about to go. Then she asked me to stay a little bit more she as she was feeling lonely.So I went to her flat and we were setting in her bedroom and chatting about the usual stuff. While talking. ‘He, and you, should have known better. You know how His Lordship is about servant-girls and sailors. Frowns on it, he does.’ ‘Uhh … I fear I’m to be sick again, Greta.’ ‘Here’s the basin.’ There followed the sounds of retching, and Greta’s unsympathetic clucking of the tongue. ‘You’ll have a sorry voyage, that you will. At least, God be praised, you can blame it on seasickness. I’ll get you a bite of dry biscuit –’ The door to the pantry, ajar, now opened the rest of the way and a tiny woman. Sue kneels on all fours, her arse towards us. Tom works some sort of oil into her buttocks and arse-crack, working the oil into her hole with a finger. This looks unpleasant, but Sue makes no complaint. Tom inserted a second finger causing Sue to give a low moan and then a third. More oil is applied and Tom slowly works his fingers in and out. I am disgusted, fascinated and aroused at the same time. In case I forget, Eve guides my hand down to my clit and I stroke myself as I take in the scene.. The merchant seemed than to realize he was about to lose his prize. He moved to grab her, only to be stopped by Dmitri. Gilraen felt her pulse quicken. Would her mother’s lover take revenge on her? ‘Run Princess – as fast as you can – as far as you can.’ Gilraen did not need a second invitation. She opened the door and rushed out. The winter air bit into her skin, it went ignored. Gilraen rushed to the horses, they stomped back – the smell of her mother’s blood filled their nostrils, they shied.
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The second flint and steel that is part of the design of my paracord bracelet. The butane lighter in my pocket, the kitchen matches I carry in a pill
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