‘Bonded? What the fuck did she mean?’ he thought. He had too many questions and no answers. He got up and walked to her room.He knocked gently. �...Mary, we need to talk,” he said to the closed door.“Go away. Go home,” Mary yelled back at Marty through the door.He could hear her muffled sobs. “Fuck!” he swore. He paced outside her door, drilling his fingers through his hair as he went over and over what had just happened. He stopped and tried the door. She hadn’t locked it, so he entered.He went. The air was filled with scent of peppermint, cinnamon, and something she couldn't identify. Whatever it was, she loved it. She looked around the room, trying to find something that could tell her where she was.It was a large room that clearly served multiple purposes. Besides the large bed, which was very expensive looking, there was a large homemade table in the corner. A large fireplace filled one wall, a fire burning inside.Suddenly a door opened and a girl walked in. She was wearing a green. The second night, after she thanked him for the roses, they discussed family. She was an only child of deceased parents. They had taken their own lives five years before upon discovering that her mother had an inoperable brain tumor.His parents, Hank and Nora, were still living -- a Baptist minister and his help mate who still weren't quite sure how to handle the success of their third child as a writer of bodice-rippers. His two older sisters, Grace and Hope, on the other hand, didn't care. He could hear the wet slap as John slapped it onto his cock, hear the wetness as John rubbed it up and down, then back again. Stephen could hear him do that again.John pushed his cock to the entrance of Stephen's asshole, and then ran the shaft over that entrance a dozen times or so. Stephen looked back, a look of both pleasure and horror on his face."Keep licking her cunt, pussyboy," John told him. Stephen lowered his head and began to slurp away again. Melanie was writhing, looking at John as.
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