I break away from your sweet lips and run my hand softly against your cheek. "Do you like your surprise darling?" I ask with a smile. "Oh yesss..." yo... purr in reply. I run a hand down your neck, your breasts, and your stomach all the way to your thighs. I run my fingers slowly over your outside pussy lips and feel the moisture. I feel you shiver with desire as I touch you and so I pull my hand away. You sigh in disappointment as the touch you crave is taken away. I lay down next to you and you. Nothing like a good reality check to dampen a mood. Good old Mr. Morrison, he always knew how to smother happiness. I met Deborah Coultier everyday for lunch, for the next week. She took me to the most ridiculously expensive and posh stores in the city, explaining what styles were in fashion in France, what styles were appropriate for the different occasions, what colors looked best on me and how to mix and match pieces. She was basically teaching me how to have a sense of style, which was like. It was a ridiculous pain to bear that a low level Martial Mortal would lose his mind over. Fortunately for Zax, he was accustomed to even greater pain and the electric rods were a defensive measure, which main purpose was to startle into buying time.Next, Zax plunged to the crimson wall of flames. His black skin lit up as if it was covered by oil, rather than fused with dark attribute energy. It crackled and peeled off, in mere instant the immense heat spread and boiled his internals, further. There had been many peculiar and fleeting events observed and recorded throughout the territories of the Twenty Fifth Reich. Many of them were contradictory to the ethical and even ethnic foundations of civilisation. There had even been the transitory appearance of a man with black skin, even though it was well over a thousand years since the last Negroid had died in a West African concentration camp. Some of these apparitions had been large objects, but they were usually comparatively small,.
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