She lifts his shirt over his shoulders while his lips move around her pelvis. He breathes her in again, kissing her soft vagina. She feels his breath,...warm and unobtrusive. His hands hold hers tightly, and she squeezes his fingers passionately, directing him to continue. His tongue caresses her, barely parting the lips of her vagina. Another kiss, and again his tongue invites shortness in her breath. "Yes." He takes his right hand free and gently traces the curves of her chest, down over her. “Sir, are you sure you’re ready?” the shorter Asian man who had led him in here asked.“Y-yeah. I guess so…” he said, hesitantly.The sheet was drawn back, past her face, and left lying just above her arioli, the stitched and glued Y-incision on her chest clearly visible. Even the ligature marks from her strangulation still remained. Saema’s face was relaxed, her eyes glassy and fixed at the light above her on the ceiling. Her soft, pale lips parted with her hair drawn along the sides of her. More

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