The unlucky recipient of my brand o’ subterfuge however, wasn’t so lucky. He was a little thick, and a little short, short and stocky some would s...y. I left him resting in his eternal sleep, sittin’ high up in the branches o’ some ol’ pine in the golf course out back o’ the estate. I shot the short ol’ man twice–just twice. Buried the muzzle o’ my barrel deep in his back, and I shot him good. He put up a fierce struggle at first, an’ I thought maybe my luck had just run out, but that ain’t the. ‘I like a woman who can follow direction,’ he said. ‘Can you follow direction?’ She fought to nod, but his grip was too strong. He yanked her skirt down to her ankles. He knelt and pressed his face into her damp panties, his tongue probed her wetness. ‘Mmmmm,’ he said. He grabbed the top of her panties and slowly pulled them down to join the skirt around her ankles. She shivered as his tongue ran roughly upwards along the folds of her labia into what little pubic hair she hadn’t shaved. His. More

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