I took my razor, cut a short slice on my forearm, dipped my finger in the running warm blood and wrote, on the bathroom wall, a 口, the character for...mouth, hoping the severed arm would stick itself in there instead...When I got to the cafeteria, Marco was dressed in a long, flowing red robe with gold trim, wearing several sets of bright green bead necklaces and had a crown of thorns and chicken feathers on his head. He was drinking a cup of chicken blood mixed with herbs.“Omiero,” he said,. Curving his finger along her cunt to avoid her hymen he gently felt, stroked and pulsed her inner wall. Continuing with his slow movement he watched his fingers glistening in her wet slipperiness. The wet lips made soft squelching sounds as they opened and re-closed around the passes of his finger and stroked firmly along her meaty engorged clit. He could hear Beauty's gasping turn into a moan.Prince could now smell the fragrant musky aroma of her cunt. At first he inhaled slowly, just enough. More

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