This wasn’t what Jane had been hoping for. Nor was she expert in hiding what she really thought. ‘Would you like another coffee, Jane?’ Charlie ...sked. This was an occasion when Jane could have made her excuses and left. It wouldn’t be a kind thing to do, of course. In fact, after all those months of Facebook friendship, it would be downright rude and would forever burden Jane’s conscience. But it was still perhaps the best thing to do. ‘Er, yes,’ said Jane. ‘Perhaps not a coffee, though. Too. Even if nothing came of this story about a possible girl friend he was too curious not to continue. He held out his hand for the witch and braced him self for the needle. She took his hand and quickly pricked his wrist, much less painful than he had expected.Expecting her to prick his finger he asked, "Why the wrist?"She raised an eyebrow. "I need blood not pain. Finger tips hurt." Oh." That actually made sense.With the tiniest drop of blood on the end of the needle, more than enough for what. As wide as you can, cunt! She obeyed, blood dripping from her nose, mouth, and a cut under her eye. He slid the Whitehead into her mouth, securing it tightly. He dragged the trash can close to him and then ratcheted the gag until her mouth was stretched open almost to the point of dislocation. Then he held up his bandaged left hand and the pliers in his right. I will make sure you never have an opportunity to bite me again, he whispered, and her eyes went wide in recognition and horror. He. “Tell me I’m your stud!” “No” I then stuck my other finger, which was soapy, into his asshole an inch or so. He squealed a bit, so I thrust it all the way in. “Oh my god! . . . Oh my God!” cried Billy, shocked at this unexpected invasion. I could feel his asshole clench and unclench onto my finger, and I knew he was cumming onto the wall opposite. He was breathing hard. “Man, you are my stud, I’ll have to say”. I took my finger out of his ass and let go of his balls. He turned around and I.
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