I had to move to her side as juices sprayed from her cunt. Her legs buckled as l kept up the attack on her cunt. Her eyes rolled back in her head as...she clung to the worktop. I pulled my fist out of here.“Turn over,” l said.She knew exactly what l intended to do.“Turn over and spread your arsehole,” l ordered.“Oh baby,” was all she could whisper as she turned, lying across the worktop. She spread her legs. Put both hands on her bottom and pulled herself open.My fist was covered in mucous. I hear that description, but most people aren’t, not really. Phillip, like Daddy, listened until I finished. Looked at the photos of the three Angstrom sheets. Ghost sheets. The picture I’d taken of the open file drawer. Reached for his cell. I got up to leave, but he held up his hand. I sat back down.“Morgan, can you see Winter Jennings and me?” Morgan Fleetwood. State Department. But probably connected elsewhere.Listened.“Right away. Immediately.”He handed me the phone and I recited the sorry. More

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