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Focus --" she scolded herself. She knew she must put all of that out of her mind, warmth, softness, goodness, and such. She must suffer in the cold tonight. She must become a Piscean sacrifice there to feed some unseen multitude. She had to. It was her nature now. She was compelled. Once six years ago as a rebellious post-grad gamine, as just another flaky summertime runaway to the Big City, then one smoggy August eve she had offered body arab and soul just for the fun of it. It had been a hazy, boozily spinning, kinky kind of alkaloid ritual, just a stupid Passion play gametic stunt when it started, when she had lain upon a Cross inside a Pentagram on a New York sex rooftop. That's all. That's what she had thought then. That's what she had thought then amid a swirl of cats' eyes and the scent of Rosemary as she splayed out like an Ichthus scratched onto a Roman floor. That's what the girl had thought, wrongly, in her ignorance. There are no prayers uttered in jest, neither from a indian Gotham rooftop nor from the high places of Tophet: So now she was obligated. Now she was compelled. She had sacrificed her innocence, so now she had an Owner, so now she had a Watchdog. She was driven on. Hardcore She had to finish the work of the day to start the work of the night. With an explosion of activity, she noted such things as time, temperature, topology, GPS location, and surrounding flora. Thus occupied she had not noticed that the sunset had fired her Great Rock into the fury of a jealous lover, turning group its face red against the darkening sky. Just as the self-absorbed always seem to do, she remained oblivious until its reflected pink light cast an accusing finger of shadow across her field notes as her pencil coupled with its page. So strong had been her dwelling place, however, her nest that had set in rock this morning, that the Winged Sentinel pulled at her and beckoned her to come back. Sighing, she felt its wistful tug in the way a traveler remembers a goodbye kiss, but the light of the world was fading, still and all, and she had to complete her journey. "Here it is!” the young botanist proclaimed. Here in the slanting adumbration she spied what she had come to find. Peeking out from behind a tuft of the terrible Tribulus terrestris, the noxious Goathead, and undistinguished but to the experienced eye, sprang the ethereal shoots of the lavender crowned Calypso orchid. They were so light-green fresh and new, so small, fragile and winsome she wondered if they must have grown in the land of Adam. In this seep, as the lily among the thorns, sprouting in this moist crack was proof that purity could stand alone among the slithering dangers in the land of Cholla and Prickly Pear…. “Of which vertu engendred is the flour” as her frail ol’ Granny Smith used to say. The girl smiled at the dear memory. "With some April showers… I miss you Granny... look down on me." She asked as she paused in a contemplation that took no more time than a missed step. I turned it group off arab and dropped it on my work bench. I slipped into the passenger seat, glancing at her skirt covering her thighs. “They were both mean to you!” “Uh...” I said, scratching the back of my neck. Frank sighed. I also saw that pussies run in her family. Then he gave Mom a peck on the cheek as he headed out sex to the driveway. My blonde hair was tangled in my horns, my freckled complexion was marred with red pressure points, and my nethers oozed indian viscous nectar down Mother’s writhing appendage, lubricating the stretching of my tight holes. That’s how it works, right? The princess. Ethan helped Hardcore me by pushing my head down and I panicked but Ethan held my head firm. Her fingers brushed her nipple piercings, flicking the golden rings up and down. So, I’ll reward you by letting you give me a blowjob, then I’ll use your face as a rag to wipe my cum off.