I took my razor, cut a short slice on my forearm, dipped my finger in the running warm blood and wrote, on the bathroom wall, a 口, the character for...mouth, hoping the severed arm would stick itself in there instead...When I got to the cafeteria, Marco was dressed in a long, flowing red robe with gold trim, wearing several sets of bright green bead necklaces and had a crown of thorns and chicken feathers on his head. He was drinking a cup of chicken blood mixed with herbs.“Omiero,” he said,. I look up at him, a silent plead for him to reconsider.I try to catch my breath, preparing for the inevitable assault, but it doesn’t come. He takes my hand and wraps in around his cock, demonstrating how to properly stroke him.“Good, now pump your hand a little bit faster... yeah, just like that.” I notice a pearl of pre-cum oozing from his tip. Instinctively, I lean over and lick it off sending a shiver through him. His moans encourage me to continue so I licked the tip again, guiding my. More

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