It was brilliant, yet oh so risky. Joel squeezed then moulded the oversized tits into a hot-looking cleavage, each hard nipple popping out on stalks. A fulsome cackside wiggled invitingly as Joel manouvered. “Noooooooo, not my arse,” she begged in genuine terror. After that no doubt his lifeless corpse would become food for the fish in the Thames. Wandering back home absent-mindedly, the condemned man spied neighbour Cathy’s car back on the drive, grin forming on his face. A vicarious lifestyle, sadly it had gotten him into trouble, serious trouble. That’s it, fuck my tight little arse hard, Joel,” she implored. Standish would likely have a gang of henchmen dismember him finger by finger, toe by toe, before beating his tortured body to within an inch of his sorry life with baseball bats and finally burn his genitalia with a blowtorch.
