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She had managed to get loose from one of her captors and they just watched her run away assuming she would die from exposure or starvation. Since Amber was the one that I knew and trusted the most, I filled her in on my plan. I needed to get home to my supplies, and then we could either wait this out or try to find others. This had brought back memories of what things were before yesterday, the two us going out for drinks and shooting pool at the local tavern this spring, k**s running through the hotel, and entire days spent at the mall. All of this was gone now; she began to weep as all of these mixed feelings hit her at once. I held her, rocked her, and tried to comfort her. She was exhausted and scared, and then she looked up at me and kissed me with passion in her eyes. As I kissed her deeply I ran my fingers through her as my other hand started to snake slowly down her back. She squirmed to reposition herself straddling me, holding my face in her soft hands. I broke free from. .No. I am denied. There - footsteps on the path to the pool. I pull my finger out, which sucks and pulls, and lick it to taste my own defilement. That does not help - it is Brandon. Brandon was American, Californian to be exact, and built like the sort of Grecian hero one only sees in museums, usually missing an arm or leg or cock - yet he had it all, as if he had sprung from his pedastal, and greeted the mortals for a day in the dullness of modernity. He looks at me with a suspcious eye, it arouses me, and I try to cover my hardness with my hands:'What are you up to?''Nothing really. What about you?''I went for a run and then a swim in the sea, beautiful- you should have come.'I would have come a minute ago if it weren't for you. But his back, arched downwards now, and his wet trunks, pulling a little off his thighs to show his arse - a little whiter than the rest of his skin, yet somehow more luscious, inexplored, unperfornative, begging for me to pry open his cheeks and taste his.
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