It was a long drive for you, wasn't it? Did you finger yourself in the car?" "I did, Mistress." I run my fingers down your wet slit and up to your sweet little asshole, rubbing your juices over it, and letting just the tip of my finger enter that puckered little opening."Good." I say, removing my hand, to your obvious disappointment. I hold my hand, covered in your cunt juices, up to your face. "Clean it up, slut." I shove my fingers into your mouth and you enthusiastically suck and lick away the taste of your own pussy. "Follow me." I lead you to the living room, where my husband sits on the couch, casually dressed with a glass of wine in his hand. You had already forgotten he would be here and find yourself blushing, knowing that he had heard everything that was said. I instruct you to stand in the middle of the room, then take a seat with him on the couch. "Strip, whore." I can see you hesitate - my husband and I are still fully dressed and I know how embarrassed you are to be. They travelled across scorched dirt and dying trees surrounded by cracked land. Miles around spread arid land, above their heads thick and heavy dark clouds were gathering to drop their heavy load upon the earth and release it from drought. During the trip, she kept her secret ingredient inside a pot, which she took out when she reached their destination. They set up all their equipment, started the fire to cook with, and Eva began cooking. The fragrant aroma of sweet herbs and spices filled the air. Almost instantly, the market crowd recognised Eva and formed a long queue behind the lucky first in line. Portions were served and overjoyed customers lingered to discuss the intricacies of Eva’s art. Some customers queued once more to receive seconds and the larger of men lined up as eagerly as the first time to receive their third and presumably last serving. Suddenly, everybody turned and froze, forks suspended in mid-air, they were all looking at El Presidente. He appeared as if he.
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