The door swung open; she unslung her rucksack and climbed in. “We drove for a while, away from the coast and away from the main road and I gave him the story of a foolish and adventurous back-packer alone in his country” Janika told Carissa, stabbing burnt umber ink into her most sensitive massage skin, disregarding her laboured breathing and trembling thighs. “He concentrated on the road and let me talk, but I know he caught some of the coy, sideways glances I threw at him. I think he understood that he was very nicely put together. Eventually, we drew up outside an abandoned log-cabin in the middle of nowhere, weed-ridden and with moss growing thickly on the roof. For the first time, he seemed unsure of himself, so I smiled sweetly and suggested that we go inside”. The interior of the cabin was pitch-black and there was a strange, sweet odour partly masked by the smell of rotten wood and neglect. Janika stood just inside the doorway while Oscar struck a match and lit a paraffin lamp. As its light began to spread across the room he stepped quickly back to shut and bar the door behind her. She looked around slowly. Holly and ivy sprouted thickly through the only window and oral damp paper was peeling from the walls. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she began to make out shapes in the darkness. A battered armchair, losing its horsehair stuffing and festooned with coils of rope, stood in the middle of the room. The bare floorboards around it were stained with dark spatters. A bare mattress lay behind it, also discoloured with red-brown smears. What might have been a collection of blonde and ginger wigs in various asian lengths and styles were scattered over and around it. On the table beside the lamp sat a car battery with a collection of crocodile clips and wires and what looked like a small cattle-prod. There was also a gleaming machete and a scattering of photographs. Janika felt his eyes burning into the back of her neck as she went over and began to flick through them. They showed the humiliation and torture of six different young women - pleading or screaming in agony, stripped and bound and tormented mercilessly. Hearing movement she stole a glance over her shoulder and saw him positioning an automatic camera on a tripod. She cumshot hurriedly turned her attention back to the pictures. They were arranged in sequences each of reality which ended with the victim’s naked corpse either beheaded or garrotted but always scalped, abandoned in some secluded place to be discovered by a horrified passer-by the next day. He set the timer on the camera and stepped up close behind her to watch over her shoulder as she spread the pictures out, a wordless and menacing presence that thrilled her to the core. But when I started to come back, I noticed that I was still laying on my back and daddy was on top of me and when I looked up at him, I reached up and pulled his mouth to mine. She then got down on one knee. Viola: No, I have not had sex for a long time. Elena stayed inside my ass, her half-hard cock providing comfort and lust in equal measure, her seed massage soaking into my reality thirsty insides. “What? She felt mark moved away from the bed and she heard mark walking behind her. He crawled further onto the bed, dragging Deana along. I sat there pondering what she had said. She tried a third time and by the fourth time it was clear she was losing ground. My wife took one look oral at her and said “What the hell did asian you do last night, you look like you should sleep the rest of the day.” Like I am his. “But isn’t that too gay?” blurted Jack. I needed to think on that still some more. “Are you texting from your computer or your phone?” Just looking at it restored cumshot me to full rigidity. I tried to picture what her nipples looked like. So wet and hot.