He decided to try and do something to distract his train of thought. He hadn't checked his e-mail for a while and thought now was a good time. He logg...ed on to his e-mail account to check for any new messages from the Surviving in Scotland web site. He was slightly dismayed to see that there were fewer replies to his own e-mails than he had hoped. Of the nearly two hundred initial messages he had sent, only fifty had given rise to another message. He thought about that and hoped it didn't. Nonetheless, that didn’t stop her from taking a swing at Harriot from behind Ivar, and her hand brushed against Harriot’s cheek. Normally, Harriot would do the responsible thing by telling the girl she had no idea what she was on about, and walk away. But Harriot was as angry and upset, and instead of doing that she found herself taking a swing for the girl too. Ivar, caught between the middle of them fought for control of the situation. With each of them equally upset and determined it would. She dreaded a grey shadow that could brew over her head, overcome, devour her. She lifted her head, and there was none. Aware of her own feet below her on the dewy grass - clad in heavy leather shoes -, she ignored her shivers and stepped determinedly forward. Then, all of a sudden, as if summoned by wizardry, a crypt appeared in front of her. She turned her head and beheld no progress - as far as she could tell, she still stood in the same place as before, in a shadowed glade amidst two. I can sense her on fire inside wanting to explode. I plunge my tongue inside her making her scream and arch her back with only her head, hands clinching the sheets, and feet touching the bed. The rest of her is in the air feeling my tongue inside her making her burn inside, not even a min passes and she explodes, bursting, making her body shake as it falls on the bed. She feels drained as I clean her up with my tongue and lips tasting, lapping up her juices making her clean, but before I can.