The probing of a finger against her womanhood bought a fresh scream to her lips. A hand flew to her mouth, silencing her. Her eyes wild with panic as ...he felt is violate her depths. Her blush renewing as she heard a low chuckle "The wench is willing lads" Shame filling her as the moistness of her lust trickled down her thigh.The finger probed deeper, wriggling around inside her, stretching the muscles and stroking the inner walls of her body. Her mind worked furiously with fresh panic wondering. She was dressed in what looked like rags, but was probably a patchwork dress. I could see plaid and gingham and paisley and denim and a dozen other materials!Clinging to her skirts was a child who couldn’t have been more than two. The little boy was sucking on his thumb, dressed only in a diaper and a t-shirt. He seemed less concerned about the car than he was about the world around them, his eyes darting from place to place.I parked my truck behind the ancient, faded old sedan and got out to. More

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