After a while, I was really going at it,trashing and screaming, finally feeling my balls slapping on the doll'sface. I sat on that face with all my we...ight, squealing with the pain andjoy of such deep penetration, covering the doll's face with my ballsknowing full well how deep it drives the dildo into the doll's throatand covers the nose holes of the mask, cutting off her air. Again, notmy concern. Alas, unable to stand it for too long, I lifted my ass offthe doll's face and started fucking. Fogg, Passepartout had been carefully observing him. He appeared to be a man about forty years of age, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure, his hair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his face rather pale, his teeth magnificent. His countenance possessed in the highest degree what physiognomists call ‘repose in action,’ a quality of those who act rather than talk. Calm and phlegmatic, with a clear eye, Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect type of that. You know, Riles, I really thought that our marriage was one of the few really good ones. Just goes to show you, doesn't it."But, I do have just have one more question. Are we going to have to fight tooth and nail over custody? I really need to be around my girls, help bring them up, you know," I said. "I could forgive a lot on some level, Riles, but never if you are going to screw me over in the divorce too," I said."What? Custody? Divorce! What are you talking about. You can't be thinking of. Once you hear it, I hope you’ll understand.”Will nodded sagely.Beatrice rubbed her red-rimmed eyes. “Here goes! When I was a little girl, just turning 10, my mother, so very critical of me – she was always calling me “worthless” – finally said I could have a birthday party. It was going to my first and I was excited but very anxious. I planned it for weeks, jotting down notes about cakes and candy and games and food and suitable dresses. “Then the day came and I was at fever pitch. I was.