Starved Beast

But then, to my surprise, the tall one turned up his nose. He glanced at Christine's tangled hair and the dirt and her saggy tits covered in stale cum and he turned away contemptuously. "Let's get out of here!" he muttered derisively. "I've seen better pussy on the Rue de le Putas. Chricky. This place gives me the shivers."

What could I say? What could I do? I didn't understand. They were telling us to leave and they weren't going to rape her.

"Yu not like m d ... daughter?" I asked, genuinely disappointed. What did I say to Christine now? Did I pretend that it had all been part of an inspired master plan or did I confess to her the truth?"

"Yu l ... let hr suuck yr c ... cock," I insisted. "Sh m d ... daughter! Sh suuck cock gud!"

Could the soldiers be leaving?

"No, old one," they said, laughing at me. "You keep her. You deserve her. We'll find ourselves a real, living aristotwat. There's plenty of them hiding about here. You couldn't sell pussy like that in the Restaurateur Bouvilli