She was silent. I kept on consoling her and I ran out of words. Then there was complete silence. I would have been talking to her for about 30 minutes...without much response from her side. But one good thing was that she stopped crying. I knew it was getting late for her.So I just held her and told her not to worry and just focus on the good people around her. And all of a sudden she started crying. I felt bad for making it worse.Me: I am really sorry. I made it worseShe: That’s okay. I am used. Alicia wondered fromwhere he'd got the dark crotch hair and armpit hair. Shawn had a pair of Alicia's dirty panties. He rubbed them onhis skin as if they were a wash cloth. He rubbed them lightly overhis balls and cock, letting them drape over his cock. His cockthrobbed up and down, Alicia's panties hanging from it. He looked delirious, drunk, his eyes unfocused, his lipsmuttering whispers. He squirmed against the satiny bedspread,humping upward, rubbing his legs and ass and feet. It helped that those he listened to and monitored didn’t know that he knew what they were saying and planning. It helped that he wore a hidden earpiece that not only amplified the conversations of those around him but also recorded it too. As if his head was an antenna, with his back turned to them, he only needed to turn his head in their direction to hear better what they were plotting. *** MadMadMadMaxine *** Sometimes when dreaming, the sound of an old M2, .50 caliber machine gun awakened. Dad was a foreman and we always had visitors over since he and his coworkers didn't know anyone when we first moved to a new town.Mom and I would often scout out the location for Dad and we would find a new place to rentbefore he moved up with us.When I was 13, we found a real nice house that some professor owned but was out of the country for 2 years, and Dad would be on this job for that long so it worked out nice. We had a big yard and a garage with a workshop and an upstairs apartment above.
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