But I made it; I’m home. Now, I don’t need him anymore. In the bathroom, just off our beautiful bedroom, so unchanged from the day I left it, ther... is peroxide and hair dye among my dusty possessions. Silently, impassively, I bleach my hair from root to tip, shocking my jet black tresses until I barely recognise the ashen blonde staring back at me from the mirror. When I am satisfied, I carelessly work the neat red dye in, watching bloody runnels fall from my scalp, dropping in heavy arterial. And these things that are felt among the family members but are seldom, if ever, spoken seem to be the constant mitigating factors that cause that same family group to either get along well together, or otherwise hate each other’s guts! Hence, I would have to say that between my Mom, my sister and me, there existed an awful lot of despising one another. It was kind of a love/hate thing — love only because we were related by blood and felt obligated to feel good things about the other one, and. As I was rock-hard, he turned his attention away from my nipples and, before I knew it, he drew back my big foreskin and put my swollen bell-end into his warm, welcoming mouth. I gasped as he did, and with each gulp he took a little more of my erection into his throat. I started wanking his cock faster and faster to match my own arousal. He grunted approvingly as I did. Before I knew it, however, he had taken me out of his mouth and turned me round. He took my cock in his mouth again as he. The man charged forward as the Dragon stomped at the floor moving at him. And then everything went black for Amira. She woke to the smell of camp fire. Her eyes still shut, she imagined opening her eyes and she’d be tucked in a sleeping bag in a tent. Her father would be outside by the fire roasting sausages for breakfast, plotting their hike for the day to come. But when Amira woke she was found herself in a cabin. It was small with carved dark brown tree logs stacked for walls. An old stove.
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