Beware the maiden, pink of hair. Astarte's voice whispered in my mind.She walked past, her ass writhing like a bag full of cats beneath that tight jea... skirt. My pecker ached so bad to stick it in her cooch. I followed her. She was so beautiful, vivacious—desirable.Beguiling figure, comely face.What could this little girl do to me? It was getting hard to think as my blood filled up my pecker. I reached out, stroking her neck. She gave a delightful squeal, whirling about, looking wild-eyed. I. She whispered the words I had written for her. ‘I take what I want.’ I gave her my climax. * The Last Night Parties after shows are always raucous. So much energy expended during the four performances, so much pent up anxiety, all released over wine and dreadful nibbles. I had changed after the show. Well, to be accurate, I had changed during the final scene when the whole cast was on stage and I could use the dressing room alone. I wore a calf-length, dark blue dress, one of my favourites. It. More

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