At the docks in Athens, Doc excused his hasty departure to such a one with a plea of illness. Ryan McGuire. Doc was sure he would see that particular ...thorn in his side again. It just showed that sharing a common circle did not mean common ideals. Doc weighed the evidence in support of an expedition against the academic and physical risk involved. He had a week to think during the voyage back to New York. He had scarcely left his cabin on the entire crossing, so intent was he on reading Wilton’s. She folded her arms self-consciously and opened her eyes. She deliberately didn’t look at the thing on the table. Instead, she examined the floor, with its threadbare rug, the walls, which were adorned with unabashed abstracts, the ceiling, with its artful cobweb that danced the length of the room. George thought about dust for a few seconds (she possessed a busy mind): its applications, its random formations, its texture. Then she directed her field of vision to the table, and to the thing. It was covered in this smooth, shiny cream that was oozing from the top of it.” At this point, I heard a rustle of heavy cloth and knew that Father Oliver was lifting his cassock and starting to touch himself. “I see. Describe his long, hard thing for me, Leanne.” “Well, Father, it was thick and long, with veins like small purple rivers running up and down it. It was twitching and jerking in his fingers as he stroked it. And at the base he had these two round things, like soft, slightly. I lifted my hand to Tiz’s pussy and stroked her. She was bare under the basque. ‘I am so wet,’ she sighed, leaning back a little. And indeed she was. I ran my fingers inside her labia, feeling soft skin. She drew her feet back up to the bed, and I touched her lightly across her clit, watching her eyes flicker and her tongue run around her lips. She twitched her pussy against my fingers, throwing her thighs wide and panting with pleasure. I heard the shower stop, and moments later Orla stepped.