She moaned and begged, even though she wasn’t quite wet yet. I worked myself in more roughly than I would have normally. If she wanted to divert me,...I was going to make it hurt. The friction produced a lot of wonderful sensations for me and some delightful whimpers from her.But after a few strokes she was as wet as a splash pad. I began to pound into her, burying myself fully. I’ve always loved the feeling of burying myself in a woman. There’s such a release of tension. As her pussy squeezes my. It was Ferguson who knew about the old legend and had kept his comrades entertained with tales of the awful doings of the Spirit of the Old Wood. On stormy winter nights his tales had gone down very well, as they supped old port and listened to Fergie's tales against the scary background of the rain beating upon the windows and the wind howling.Father Stephen nodded. That was one mystery explained. But what was behind the shining light, the screaming as of a siren and the cackling demented. More

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