It's her room; the mysterious friend I occasionally speak to. The room in itself somehow has very little detail in my imagination but on the one side ... large comfortable leather chair sits waiting for her. This dark leather chair can tell stories I am sure. If only I could talk to it I may fathom the secret desires living inside the occupant of the chair. In this room it is always night and the moonlight washes into the room and fires up the imagination with possibilities. I watch her come into. Batschka removed her blouse and sucked her nipple into his mouth, teasing the hard, pink berry with his tongue.But Yana said nothing and continued to stare into the void.Batschka tugged the zipper of her imported leather skirt, made in slaughterhouse district of East Berlin, the remainder of its distance and skinned it down the silken shapely legs. He noticed that her imported edible panties, made in the candy district of Prague, were missing. He caressed the smooth mound of her shaved babushka. More

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