Was he regretting his friend? Having reached the last of that appalling series of crimes, was he imagining the several stages, each marked with a corp...e? Was something like a conscience making itself felt deep down in that brute? Or was it not rather the sort of physical torpor that numbs the sated beast of prey, glutted with flesh, drunk with blood, a torpor that is almost voluptuousness?Nevertheless, he once more repeated Florence's name, and tears rolled down his cheeks.He lay long in this. I looked around and saw a smile dark haired girl, I smiled back.When I stood up I noted she looked good, not stunning, with a huge rack, maybe 40D and a huge pregnant belly, about 5 ft 3 ins. I stood well anove her , I'm 5 ft 11. I'm Helen she said, staring at my crotch. Unbeknownst to me my prick was getting harder again. She wore a light summer dress showi g all her curves , I was fucking salivating. She was posh, told me she was 18 and lived in her Dad's apartment. I took her hand and. More

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