There was no other way to describe the way she rode him. Her hips had been practically industrial with their perfect, consistent timing, their tireles...ness, their unwavering and singular sense of purpose. He knew she would never stop until the deed was done; she was clearly too devoted a servant when she was doing nature’s bidding to let anything disrupt her.That perfection was truly something to behold. To have that velvety pussy squeezing and rubbing his dick from every angle non-stop, to. "Please,may I have some water? And I want my clothes back." "It’s not cold. You don’t need clothes," thewoman says. "You are a prisoner, now, of the Free Nationalist Army. Iwon’t muck about: we need to know the positions of your various battalions,artillery, and aircraft." "You have the wrong person, I tell her. "I don’tknow that stuff." One moment I’m kneeling, the next I’m lyingon my bound arms, my head pounding, ears screeching, the whole world spinning.I had no. More

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