He was lucky. The knife had told him so. He had found his Purpose in life. A Purpose he was good at it. And better yet, he liked it. His attention was...drawn back to the bloody, abused girl in his hands. He carried her by the throat back through the door and down the rickety basement steps. Her fingers were digging into his hands, nails drawing bloody furrows, her bare feet were kicking at his legs. He didn’t feel it. All he felt was the pull of attraction to the knife. The pull to the power,. Also fang an, finger dir das geile Fötzchen!“Das Mädchen atmet nur einmal tief durch, dann wandern ihre Hände wie von selbst zu Titten und Fotze und fangen an, sich zu streicheln. Der Mann starrt gebannt auf ihre Spalte, in der immer wieder ein oder zwei Finger verschwinden. Auch die Tante reckt den Hals, um ihrer Nichte beim Masturbieren zuzuschauen, während sie immer wilder auf dem Schwanz ihres Partners reitet. Plötzlich schreit sie auf und ihr Körper verkrampft. Sie hat offensichtlich einen. More

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