‘Then, little princess, let me be both messenger and guide.’ ‘Let it be so.’ ‘So shall it be. Take this,’ he opened his free hand flat rev...ealing a dagger. It appeared very old – shaped from obsidian – the edges ground to a clean, black, glassy blade. I touched the hilt with my left hand fingers, knowing if I touched the blade, I should cut myself. ‘What should I do with it?’ ‘Take some strands of my hair. Cut them at the scalp.’ My right hand curled around the dagger hilt. Moving to his side, I. She went and got me some iced tea and I finished getting the wheel off. When I was done she had me wash my hands in her sink and then asked how she could ever repay me. In the A/C her nipples had hardened under the bikini top and I just sort of laughed and said that I could think of a few ways. She looked me in the eyes and asked me about my wife. "Girlfriend" I corrected her, "and we have an open relationship. She screws other guys all the time, sometimes I am there, sometimes I am not. As. Get it?" Yeah, I got it," I said, hanging up. I burned with rage and the desire for revenge against Keyes, and I desperately wanted to make it up to Daylene. A plan formed in my mind."Professor Finch, don't you think that this project would benefit from a little publicity on the street?" Depends on what kind." How about a memorial service and protest rally against police indifference to the safety of the transgendered population and incompetence in the investigation of Daylene's murder?" That. The massive walnut head of Peter’s tool slid into view along her wet cleft. He manipulated the head into her sex until it snuggled into the open aperture of her vagina. His cock pulsed forward, entered her. His cock rocked again and many centimeters of his thick heavily veined shaft slid into the wet recess of my wife’s cunt. Her body moved back against him over my face. More of his massive length of meat slid into her. He thrust forward, his tool completely buried inside her, his tight skinned.