She also knew the place was between a river which she didn’t know the name of, a castle with three different names, God knows why, and a factory tha... used to make tanks in WWII, and that never had a name at all. The castle and the factory and the windmill itself had all got the shit bombed out of them during that war, but then all of them or some of them may or may not have been rebuilt afterward. Ha fucking ha. So she’d needed help from local experts. Not to say she couldn’t have figured out. Barrington lunges, and Hester groans her dismay; his energy and cock's size have surpassed expectation, are a shock to composure. His first thrust has robbed her lungs of air, and she struggles to acclimatise to the severity of his thrusts, closes her eyes and endures. He has achieved full command of her body and mind. Soon she grows accustomed to his brutishness, his selfishness. She raises both hands and takes his head between her palms as he fucks her, drawing back her knees and encircles. More

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