She stood as well, hoping to hide the blush she could feel warming her cheeks. She could smell the scent of her own arousal as soon as she sat down in... the bathroom. “God,” she moaned, the ache almost unbearable. She hadn’t even dated anyone since dumping her cheating boyfriend over two months earlier, let alone had sex. Now that she could see and hear him, talking to the handsome man on the other end of the computer was almost torture. Fortunately for her sanity, Jason beat her back to the. Bufford looked away from the bobbing head to his brother. “Clyde, he’s a good old boy.”The police chief shifted in the cushy chair, crushed his empty beer can, and, with a flick of his wrist, hurled it at the black woman. It bounced off her back and clattered on the floor. She flinched.“You don’t know him from Adam,” the police chief said.“I’ve been watching him. He’s one of us.”“He’s not from around here. And he ain’t related so he’s not one of us.”“He treats niggers like dirt.”The black woman. .. He'd extracted about as much intense pain from pounding her ass as he could; now, he could tell that she was conforming to him and the pain was banking, settling back to a burn. She didn't need his whole length to get the job done and neither did he, so he worked a hand past his groin and into her drippy slit, finding her clitoris without much of a problem. That done, he started working it between two fingers, adding a new dimension to her perceptions of the act.Arthur saw the move, and saw. My wife was operating a merchant spy ring, using traveling merchants in Convey. She sent three tinker wagons, full of captured weapons and damaged armor north, through coastal villages with her spy, a few slightly wounded, apprentice craftsmen from the battle and a couple of mercenary guards. A mule pulled each tradesman's cart, with a bow-topped roof covering the wagon. Each tradesman lived inside the wagon, moving from village-to-village selling a few items, and offering his skills to the.