A moment later she was rubbing his chest and arms with the rag herself.“My name is Kelala. The Fusan sent me to you. I am here for the night to offe... any assistance you need.”She was about his age. A bit shorter than average height; with long hair, the color of honey and tied in a ponytail. Her skin was lighter than that of the Ogusi. She wore a tight fitting, short leather dress that clung to her skin. Kelala looked athletically slim with an abundance of youthful tightness. Her hazel eyes were. As none of us were quite sure of the turning I sat there peering out through the windscreen, making jokes about Italian driving and elated easy targets. It was hard to concentrate because most of my attention was focused on the sensations of moving my finger in Christina’s sopping quim, luxuriating in its texture, flashes of unbridled sexual activity corus**ting through my mind. Pierro finally noticed the right sign and we turned off onto another motorway. After a few seconds of conversation I. More

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