She gasped and wept, desperately trying to squeeze air through her nostrils as he owned her throat for his pleasure. Then, slowly at first to get the...feel of fucking her throat, he began to rock his cock backwards and forwards, finding the edge of her gag reflex again. “You filthy little slut, you feel so fucking good,” he growled, gritting his teeth as he kept on pacing himself, “After I pump my cum down your throat I’m going to use your pussy and your ass too. I am going to **** your holes. She was flush-decked and carried ten twelve-pounders on each side, a modern man o’war and the captain’s cabin was comparably roomy.They left Le Havre with the morning tide and with a lively westerly wind abeam, Clotho raced over the choppy waters of the Channel often topping 13 knots. Therefore it was still light when they passed the Isle of Wight and made for Portsmouth Harbour.Emily McAllister still owned the house on High Street, but she had moved to London and the house was closed for all. More

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