And then her mouth on the tip. It had taken Rose-Marie a while to get used to the taste of Yves' penis. At first she had found it strange. The peculia... male odours. The different feel on her tongue of the smooth shiny glans and the main body where the hairs persisted almost halfway up its length. And, of course, the testicles. Or at least the taut scrotum pulled by the tension of the penis's stiffness. Another taste again. And many more hairs to get tangled in her teeth. But Rose-Marie loved it. The endless vigil would continue elsewhere in the Connecticut castle grounds. Well paid and trusted minions had the boring task of observing the FITZ and their company of misfits and ex-slaves sleep."What's so funny, Prince?" asked his young wife, awaking on the couch where sleep had overtaken her while she waited to perform her wifely duty when he finished his work."That band of merry oddballs just got odder," he explained to the delicate pale flower, and took her frail hand. Standing, her. More

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