“You.”He pulled his finger from my clit. It glistened in the candlelight. He pressed it to my lips. I sucked it greedily, savoring my sweet musk. ...y eyes fluttered. I wished it were his cock I was sucking, not his finger.I twisted in his arms and fell to my knees before him, my hands unlacing his codpiece so I could get at his dick beneath. He smiled at me. “Feeling competitive? Do you need to prove that you can suck cock as good as Faoril?”My cheeks warmed. “No.”Was I though?Faoril’s wet,. Pacing was a habit I learned from my husband's family. Whenever there was a big decision, or when they thought there was some fact just beyond what they were grasping, they paced."This happened in Afghanistan?" No, Tajikistan. That's one of the few details I did get."I stopped pacing as I made a decision. No parent would ever accept so few details on their child's death. If the answers were not here, then I would go where the answers were. And the military was going to cooperate. Under the. More

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