“But I have a question. You owe me that.”“Yes?”“When the Mongol ****d me, my pussy got wet. Why did that happen? I had no desire for him. Am...I at fault? Did I, in some way, wish for it? I am ashamed and confused.”She looked me at me straight with her dark eyes. “You have only known the wetness when you were filled with desire, so you think they are the same. But the wetness is not desire. The wetness is your pussy protecting itself from harm. You did not wish for it. You are not at fault. It is. Her small hands could not span the great breadth of the cockshaft and her fingers did not meet, but she was doing the job very nicely, nevertheless. The prickhead began to flare and throb. The horse twisted his neck and gazed down at the girl who was manipulating his cockmeat. One hind leg pawed at the floor."He likes this," she giggled."Can't say as I blame him," Hank rasped.The cleft in the tip of that great bludgeon of a prick-knob had gaped wide open and a sticky flow of spunk filled. More

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