Was it possible that he was not his parents’ son? Maybe adopted? But no, that wasn’t it, because he had asked when he was 11. The answer from his ...other had been prompt, elaborated, and sustained by facts. He wasn’t adopted. But somehow, his father’s explorer genes had neutralized somehow with his mother’s adventurous nature, and they had produced a son who couldn’t care less about what was happening beyond his house fence.Well, that was a way of thinking. He had inherited his parents’. She squealed indignantly as he stripped her. Herpussy was a delicate cleft, rosy at the edges, topped by a little half-diamondof curly black hair. Both hair and cunt were very damp, and two little dropsof blood seeped down from the puncture wounds he had left on either side ofher slit. A scent like the sweetest of clover-blossom honey filled Coyote'snostrils. She kicked uselessly a few more times, and then her legs just trembled.The snake slipped between her thighs and bit her once again. Her. More

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