.. and at the memory.After a few minutes of cuddling, she reached for him. This was something they hadn’t done in Boston. They’d been college stud...nts, and making out hadn’t lasted many dates before they had gone to bed. Now, though, Sylvia stroked his cock. The touch was gentle, feather light over the most sensitive part. She was so much gentler to him than he was to himself. He wanted to hold himself back to experience this delight, but he was too tightly wound. Sylvia still needed her rest,. As they divided up her clothes, one or the other of the soldiers would periodically call out to her. When she'd look down at them, he'd hold up this or that piece of clothing and tell the nude bitch nailed to the cross above his head what a good gift it would make to one of the other local whores.Tyra needed water. She hadn't had a drink since she was arrested and the hot sun and long hours of brutal torture had dehydrated her to the point that her lips were dry and cracked, her tongue swollen. More

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