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Instead he placed one finger in her slit and slowly began rubbing it in and out. Renee drew closer, fascinated. Fran's twat was twitching excitedly. Her liquid was dripping down her leg in a thick stream. And still Manuel continued his excruciatingly slow manipulation. Faster, Renee thought. Faster! She could almost feel that finger stroking the inside of her own passage. Her hips convulsed in sympathetic rhythm to his probing digit. |
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Fran's cunt lips were swollen with blood, pink through the blonde pelt between her legs. She was writhing and screaming and shouting, but Manuel refused to bring her to a climax. "Give me a cigarillo!" he ordered. Renee hurried to his clothes, groped around in the pockets for a minute before she found his cigarettes. She still needed matches. Her fingers went back through the pockets until she felt the smooth, slick cover of a matchbook---and something else. Trembling, she pulled her hand out of Manuel's pocket holding a book of matches and the hypodermic needle. For a long moment she held the needle, ready to stab it into her own flesh. With a shudder, she finally jammed it back in the pocket and turned, carrying the cigarettes back to the Mexican.