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Yet, Katsu's hand often dropped to her lap, when Derwen was looking away; and, she scratched my itch, arousing me.Derwen got my attention when she mentioned a fair amount of loot from the captured mules was sent on The Lady of Truth to Juniper Hill to my other wives. All the silverware, silver dinner sets and goblets, various silver jewelry and gem stones. Derwen listed other items but my mind tuned her out as I pictured my tower full of silverware. Palus and Swarta would go wild with excitement at such wealth. I didn't think Laudus or her sisters would be overly impressed but they'd certainly feel more "Noble."When Derwen rolled a gold coin on her desk at her sister, I remembered the small chest of gold. I also had a flash of the screams of my men ringing in my ears. I heard the agonizing cries of the mortally wounded and I pictured the men I shot with the flare gun, iron beads ripping their hearts out. The gut-wrenching screams of militia men, stunned with the last blow of a sword. Again, she gasped and again her bottom lifted. I put my finger into her vagina once more and then applied more of her juices to her anus and as I pressed my finger against that little ring, I applied my mouth to her clitoris.Her sphincter opened, my finger slid into her rear and I suck her clitoris. Brenda shrieked, she wailed, she bucked, but she also grabbed my head and pulled it hard against her sex. I licked, sucked, and nibbled her dripping labia as I finger fucked her anal passage. Soon I was able to get two fingers into her back passage and I knew that she was completely mine.I backed away from her and raised myself until I could insert my erection into her vagina and fuck her until she was moaning and sobbing for a rest. I had a rest and brought her a drink of fruit juice, but I insisted that she remained where she was because I wasn’t finished with her.“Please Tim. I can’t take any more now. You can have me whenever you want; I want to have that done to me again.”“Do I own.
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We were directed by a guy called Tommy Raisin, a male version of Van, a tough, no-nonsense, 'do as I say' sort of director. He was good. Catherine’s script was taut, paced and very, very funny. After one rehearsal we’d all gone to a famous water-side pub for a drink. Catherine had come with us and we were sitting on a balcony overlooking the docks and wrapped up against the cold so we could have a cigarette together. “You and Van an item?” She looked at me, her blonde hair partially covering one eye. She shook her head. “No. Well, maybe, sort of.” I had to laugh. “For a wordsmith, you’re not being too clear.” Her turn to laugh. “Maybe because it’s not clear to me either. I mean, we’ve, well, you know, but…” “Why did you call my character Charlotte?” “Because you fancy Van.” “Now you’re being obscure.” “Van fancies women called Charlotte.” “What? Seriously?” “Seriously. That’s why she calls me Charlotte.” “Christ, I knew life could be complicated but that is beyond complex. So you.

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