Beautiful Brunette Goddess From India

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Mrs Saxon held me to her matronly bosom.My father screamed, "I'm gonna kill you, you little..."ClickMr Saxon had re-emerged from the house, brandishing a shotgun. "Touch him," he said quietly, "and I'll blow your worthless skull right off of your corpse." He smiled and aimed the gun.After a few minutes argument, a police car rolled up. Mr Saxon had alerted them, it seemed. A tall, ex-Marine looking cop got out, assessed the situation, and got, to his satisfaction, the straight scoop.After a quarter-hour or so, having heard all he likely needed to, the cop pulled my father to one side, far enough away we shouldn't have been able to hear, and said, in a voice we couldn't help hearing: "You touch that boy again," gesturing at me, "I'll take this gun," he held up his service revolver, "stick it up your drunken ass, and pull the trigger. You got that?"My dad's bravado had slipped a few notches. He nodded. The cop turned, then sucker-punched him, and then broke his nose with the flat of. "Come on down, Mr. Cross," called out Pearce and the room fell silent,"You're amongst friends here." I stumbled to my feet. I was stuck with noway out. I looked for a way to stall. I felt a lump in my pocket. My phone!I couldn't think of a way my phone could get me out of my contract so Isimply handed it to Benny and told him to look after it until 'came back'.He consoled me as if he knew that I was never coming back. I walked to theend of chair and walked down the steps to the two people responsible forthis craziness - Claire Pearce and a man known only as 'The Master'. Eachstep felt like a slowing heartbeat that would kill me when I reached thosetwo. Pearce looked compassionate, almost like she didn't want me to gothrough with it. Maybe she would cheer if I ran away but probably not. 'TheMaster' just stared ahead into the middle distance like he was bored."It'll be OK, Liam," the Vice Dean informed me, "You know what? Out of allthe applicants, you impressed me the most. I am so.
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It looked as if it could be a perfect match. They introduced themselves. He was Max and he was in something financial. T hey had a drink. He had a Long Island Tea, she chose the slightly crass and suggestive Sex on the Beach. They had another. He was twenty-six, she was thirty-seven. He was in some sort of relationship. She was married. They were both there for three days and they were both there to get laid. “Perhaps we should do lunch,” said Em brightly. The young man’s bulge became even more plainly evident. He looked long and deeply at her and said, “We should. I’d love to eat your pussy.” Em’s nipples hardened and rose. This was instantly observable since her string bikini top was merely that, the string, no fabric. Her pussy, similarly clad in only string, no fabric, got hotly wet. She shifted on her bar stool, leaving a damp patch. She looked at her watch. It was eleven-thirty. She said, “Come to my suite at one o’clock. We’ll have lunch. You shall have your favourite.

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