. entities that lie beyond this plane, and fewer still dare to face the terrible risks and costs of such contact. I myself would not have attempted it......" he trailed off, and favored Steve with an icy stare. Steve had been a ruthless handler for over seven years, and a soldier and 'wet-work' field operative for nine years before that. He still felt a thrill of anxiety at that stare." ... but you and your people... inspired me."Again, stalling for time was called for. "It was nothing personal. I. “Just a tonic water, please, Oy’m drivin’,” I said.I had worked in the south west of England five days out of seven for almost 25 years, with most of my clients speaking the Queen’s English, so my natural West Midlands’ dialect, centred around the Brummie accent, was reduced to just a hint as a natural part of my everyday speech I couldn’t quite shake off even if I wanted to. Today, pretending to be Gina’s driver, I decided to speak as though I had just got off the bus, or ‘booz’ in Brum.I. My asshole throbbed and a little pain shot through me as I tried to relax my sphincter muscles. As he kept me down on his cock longer, the pain began to subside and I regained my composure. I rubbed back and forth on his cock indicating I was ready for more. He loosened his grip, still holding me by the hips as I worked up and down on his cock. The suntan oil actually was a very good lube as it turned out. Since we were both dry there wasn’t that slapping sound I was trying to muffle in. She looked up at the rider’s face only once as he steadied her across the mare’s back. The man looked straight ahead and refused to see the tear-strewn eyes pleading with him. The evening was quickly darkening now that she was away from the flames. Here, her ripped and shredded clothes provided no warmth against the cool evening air. Halting among an encampment of tents, the rider dismounted. It was with flaming cheeks and bloodshot eyes that she was finally lifted from the saddle. Her torn.