Likemost readers, I prefer to pretend that second series neverhappened. This is a new adventure featuring the originalMantra. You do not need any prev...ous knowledge of thecharacter to follow this story.MANTRA: DAY OF THE STORM GODBy BobH(c) 2002. BERLIN: April 30th, 1945.From his position behind one of the piles of rubble thatvied with the fires and bomb craters to be this batteredcity's most ubiquitous feature, the man in the shadowswatched his prey through narrowed eyes. To those who. "Oh, God yes," was all I could say."You too excited. Your not gonna last long, are you?" No. You've got me too turned on," I panted."That's okay. I want to taste your cum," she said, taking hold of my cock again. She squeezed the shaft at the base, then slid her hand toward the head. As she was doing so, she put her tounge underneath, the tip just touching the cleft on the bottom of my cockhead. A large flood of precum ran out of the slit, and right onto her tounge. "That tatses so good," she. Although her stepfather had long since left, Nancy was still haunted by vivid memories and horrible dreams. Anytime a boy even tried to get close to her, she would recoil in fear and start to shake and sweat. She has never told anyone about the abuse. She seemed destined to suffer in silence. Nancy's one activity in which she found comfort was listening to music. She particularly liked the album 'Just Jimmy Reed', which her cousin had bought her on a trip to Chicago. She would listen to side. His need todrink no more than the occasional cocktail saw to that. His record forholding on to a single bottle stood at six years. That was a bottle ofcoconut rum that he held onto long after the vacation that he broughtit back from was nothing more than pictures and fading memories.Not whiskey though. That was his alcohol of choice for when he did feelwhat need to drink he possessed come to visit him. It didn't visit himoften though. Drinking wasn't what he craved except as the.
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