Diary Of A Nazi Rape Squad free porn video

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My name is Barbara Luttice

My name is Marla Eton.? I?m a 43-year-old Briton, currently living what I consider to be my dream life with Julio, a considerate, handsome, late-thirty-something Italian university art history instructor and avid painter, here in sunny Italy.? Ever since my stressful divorce from a Fleet Street solicitor four years ago, I?ve lived here in the beautiful Tuscan countryside, an hour?s drive from Florence, were I now work part-time as a visiting professor of Linguistic Anthropology.?

Several years ago, seeking both solace and diversion following my divorce, I embarked on a two month mini-sabbatical to South America.? I traveled to Argentina were I did some of the final investigative research I needed in order to finish my Ph.D. thesis, the subject of which addresses with the lack of native language evolution among European immigrants to the Americas.

While rummaging for transatlantic linguistic material in a dark, musty old government document storage bin in Buenos Aires, I stumbled across a journal, a tattered-edged daily diary of sorts, handwritten in German.? I discovered the hardbound, dust covered ledger in a smelly, unventilated subterranean cellar whose ceiling was unceremoniously decorated with drain pipes and a single, dim, dangling light bulb.? My Argentine hosts were lead to believe that the room was once part of the archives for the Argentine National Office of Immigration.? Its contents had apparently never been moved when the ministry relocated to a trendier neighborhood some thirty years earlier.

The cool, dark gray concrete walls of the windowless archive were stacked high with dusty, sagging cardboard boxes crammed with paper files.? The files contained mostly official looking documents taken off German and Italian citizens entering Argentina in the mid-20th-century.? That moment in which I first opened the dusty, aging ledger was one I will never forget.? I was instantly transported back to another time as I gazed at pages meticulously written using an old style fountain pen.? The penmanship, clearly from another era, was immaculate.?

The text had sat undisturbed for decades in a box full of seemingly unrelated immigration files.? What had brought my attention to it was its binding.? I had seen that exact color and style of ?binding once before while searching through a war documents archive in Frankfurt.? It was the official, military issue binding of a German war log, a journal used to record an individual German army unit?s daily activity and movement.?

Much like a ship?s log, this army field journal would have been the responsibility of an individual unit?s Commanding Officer.? For a Company, a unit of maybe 250 soldiers, it would have been kept by a Captain, or in the case of a smaller unit, by a Lieutenant.? Every German military unit, right down to the 35-man platoon, was required to keep this journal, and to make at least cursory daily entries. ??

If the Company Captain was lucky enough to have one, he may have dictated the journal entries to a scribe, who was most likely a senior sergeant in possession of penmanship and spelling skills.? A unit?s scribe, often a conscripted school teacher, would assist the unit?s Captain with official communications, and would write a condolence letter, in the Captain?s name of course, to the parents of any soldier kill in action.? ????

While I won?t pretend to be even remotely fluent in the wonderful German language, as I browsed through the pungent leaves of this yellowing military log book, I became suspicious that it had not been used for its intended purpose such as I had witnessed in Frankfurt, but had been used, possibly, as a soldier?s personal diary.? Was it confiscated and placed with these archival documents because it was thought to be part of official Nazi military records?? I could only guess.

Fascinated by what I had found, I tucked the ledger under my jacket, confident it would never be missed by a nation whose authorities couldn?t distinguish a fleeing Nazi from a sub-Saharan ?refugee.?

Upon returning to Italy I invited a German acquaintance from the university, who I will only refer to as Anna, to visit Julio and I out at our old Tuscan farmhouse.? Anna, like myself, had in her mature years developed a penchant for Italian companionship and an equal distain for middle-aged northern European males.? After a half hour of small talk and a half liter of claret, Anna agreed to painstakingly translate and transcribe the entire handwritten journal into English for me.?

Two months passed before her Volvo graced the gravel driveway of Julio?s farm again. As she stood on the portico, thick transcript in hand, I could tell from the look on her face that?s something deeply troubled her.

?What?s wrong?? I asked.

Tears welled up in Anna?s eyes as she struggled to answer, turning to avoid eye contact.

?It?s so horrible? she said.

I took Anna by the hand and led her to a creaky old wicker sofa in the veranda as a warm Tuscan afternoon breeze drifted through the house. Without speaking a word I poured us each a glass of lightly chilled pinot, glancing up at Anna for any sign of what was wrong.

Anna, a buxom, forty-something native Berliner with a short brunette bob, struggled for the best choice of English words, words which percolated haltingly from her lips as tears welled in her eyes.

?It is a diary, written by a German officer, SS I believe, who was in charge of a special group of soldiers, about 200 or so of them from what I could gather.? The job of this special group was, simply, to terrorize civilians.? The company traveled from place to place throughout Europe on orders from some high Nazi official.? Sometimes Germany, occasionally France, and the Low Countries, but mostly Czechoslovakia, Poland, and Hungary, terrorizing villages with rape, torture and murder on orders from above.?

?This is a special squad of monsters had no other purpose but to terrorize innocent civilians.? These horrible Nazi killers raped hundreds, maybe thousands of girls and women; even young boys.? They tortured and killed to get information from, and seek revenge on, those whose villages where known to harbor underground resistance fighters.?

?Their goal was to instill such unimaginable terror among the villagers that they would give up the names and hiding places of the underground resistance. These Nazi monsters did the most horrible things imaginable.? They had a blank check to write their own living nightmares. They tortured and killed young boys and old men alike.? They raped young girls as their fathers were forced to watch.? They killed poor, defenseless old men as their grandchildren looked on. They forced sisters and mothers to have sex with their own sons and brothers.?

?They stripped an entire family naked, then forced them to slowly walk humiliated through town to their execution the entire village looked on.?

Raising her head to make eye contact for the first time since she began to speak, Anna said ?Marla, this journal was written by a monster, a real, living monster.? Each time I turned another page I prayed that it was not true, that the next page would say this was all made up, just some sick, pervert?s pathetic attempt at fiction or fantasy.? But I?m afraid my hope was in vain.? I?m certain it is real, Marla.? It is just too unbelievably horrible to imagine. I want to believe this is fiction, but, but ?.?

Anna?s voice trailed off as she placed her face down in her hands and began to weep.? I reached my arm around her shoulders in a vain attempt to comfort her, knowing there was nothing I could say or do until I had read her English transcript of the diary myself.

?What do you have there that is so interesting? Julio asked me later that night as I huddled in a leather chair near a corner, reading from the thick stack of white translated papers.? I didn?t reply, but kept reading, transfixed.?

-------------------------------------------------

August 17, 1941

We are in western Ukraine, just east of the Polish frontier. We are encamped just outside?? a small village. This morning, just before we broke our encampment, I gathered the men and informed them of our next mission.? In support of Operation Barbarosa, the Fuehrer?s recently initiated plan for the conquest of Russia, our orders today are to neutralize the nearby village of Orbstecz, where known underground resistance operatives were being harbored.?

These orders, sent to me in code via the wireless last night from SS intelligence headquarters in Berlin, mandate that our unit uncover the village?s subversives at all cost, and, if possible, take them alive and interrogate them to obtain information vital to the Reich?s cause.

I mounted my half-track and headed the one kilometer east to Orbstecz, confident that my men would achieve today objectives.

?

My name is Marla Eton.? I?m a 43-year-old Briton, currently living what I consider to be my dream life with Julio, a considerate, handsome, late-thirty-something Italian university art history instructor and avid painter, here in sunny Italy.? Ever since my stressful divorce from a Fleet Street solicitor four years ago, I?ve lived here in the beautiful Tuscan countryside, an hour?s drive from Florence, were I now work part-time as a visiting professor of Linguistic Anthropology.?

Several years ago, seeking both solace and diversion following my divorce, I embarked on a two month mini-sabbatical to South America.? I traveled to Argentina were I did some of the final investigative research I needed in order to finish my Ph.D. thesis, the subject of which addresses with the lack of native language evolution among European immigrants to the Americas.

While rummaging for transatlantic linguistic material in a dark, musty old government document storage bin in Buenos Aires, I stumbled across a journal, a tattered-edged daily diary of sorts, handwritten in German.? I discovered the hardbound, dust covered ledger in a smelly, unventilated subterranean cellar whose ceiling was unceremoniously decorated with drain pipes and a single, dim, dangling light bulb.? My Argentine hosts were lead to believe that the room was once part of the archives for the Argentine National Office of Immigration.? Its contents had apparently never been moved when the ministry relocated to a trendier neighborhood some thirty years earlier.

The cool, dark gray concrete walls of the windowless archive were stacked high with dusty, sagging cardboard boxes crammed with paper files.? The files contained mostly official looking documents taken off German and Italian citizens entering Argentina in the mid-20^th-century.? That moment in which I first opened the dusty, aging ledger was one I will never forget.? I was instantly transported back to another time as I gazed at pages meticulously written using an old style fountain pen.? The penmanship, clearly from another era, was immaculate.?

The text had sat undisturbed for decades in a box full of seemingly unrelated immigration files.? What had brought my attention to it was its binding.? I had seen that exact color and style of ?binding once before while searching through a war documents archive in Frankfurt.? It was the official, military issue binding of a German war log, a journal used to record an individual German army unit?s daily activity and movement.?

Much like a ship?s log, this army field journal would have been the responsibility of an individual unit?s Commanding Officer.? For a Company, a unit of maybe 250 soldiers, it would have been kept by a Captain, or in the case of a smaller unit, by a Lieutenant.? Every German military unit, right down to the 35-man platoon, was required to keep this journal, and to make at least cursory daily entries. ??

If the Company Captain was lucky enough to have one, he may have dictated the journal entries to a scribe, who was most likely a senior sergeant in possession of penmanship and spelling skills.? A unit?s scribe, often a conscripted school teacher, would assist the unit?s Captain with official communications, and would write a condolence letter, in the Captain?s name of course, to the parents of any soldier kill in action.? ????

While I won?t pretend to be even remotely fluent in the wonderful German language, as I browsed through the pungent leaves of this yellowing military log book, I became suspicious that it had not been used for its intended purpose such as I had witnessed in Frankfurt, but had been used, possibly, as a soldier?s personal diary.? Was it confiscated and placed with these archival documents because it was thought to be part of official Nazi military records?? I could only guess.

Fascinated by what I had found, I tucked the ledger under my jacket, confident it would never be missed by a nation whose authorities couldn?t distinguish a fleeing Nazi from a sub-Saharan ?refugee.?

Upon returning to Italy I invited a German acquaintance from the university, who I will only refer to as Anna, to visit Julio and I out at our old Tuscan farmhouse.? Anna, like myself, had in her mature years developed a penchant for Italian companionship and an equal distain for middle-aged northern European males.? After a half hour of small talk and a half liter of claret, Anna agreed to painstakingly translate and transcribe the entire handwritten journal into English for me.?

Two months passed before her Volvo graced the gravel driveway of Julio?s farm again. As she stood on the portico, thick transcript in hand, I could tell from the look on her face that?s something deeply troubled her.

?What?s wrong?? I asked.

Tears welled up in Anna?s eyes as she struggled to answer, turning to avoid eye contact.

?It?s so horrible? she said.

I took Anna by the hand and led her to a creaky old wicker sofa in the veranda as a warm Tuscan afternoon breeze drifted through the house. Without speaking a word I poured us each a glass of lightly chilled pinot, glancing up at Anna for any sign of what was wrong.

Anna, a buxom, forty-something native Berliner with a short brunette bob, struggled for the best choice of English words, words which percolated haltingly from her lips as tears welled in her eyes.

?It is a diary, written by a German officer, SS I believe, who was in charge of a special group of soldiers, about 200 or so of them from what I could gather.? The job of this special group was, simply, to terrorize civilians.? The company traveled from place to place throughout Europe on orders from some high Nazi official.? Sometimes Germany, occasionally France, and the Low Countries, but mostly Czechoslovakia, Poland, and Hungary, terrorizing villages with rape, torture and murder on orders from above.?

?This is a special squad of monsters had no other purpose but to terrorize innocent civilians.? These horrible Nazi killers raped hundreds, maybe thousands of girls and women; even young boys.? They tortured and killed to get information from, and seek revenge on, those whose villages where known to harbor underground resistance fighters.?

?Their goal was to instill such unimaginable terror among the villagers that they would give up the names and hiding places of the underground resistance. These Nazi monsters did the most horrible things imaginable.? They had a blank check to write their own living nightmares. They tortured and killed young boys and old men alike.? They raped young girls as their fathers were forced to watch.? They killed poor, defenseless old men as their grandchildren looked on. They forced sisters and mothers to have sex with their own sons and brothers.?

?They stripped an entire family naked, then forced them to slowly walk humiliated through town to their execution the entire village looked on.?

Raising her head to make eye contact for the first time since she began to speak, Anna said ?Marla, this journal was written by a monster, a real, living monster.? Each time I turned another page I prayed that it was not true, that the next page would say this was all made up, just some sick, pervert?s pathetic attempt at fiction or fantasy.? But I?m afraid my hope was in vain.? I?m certain it is real, Marla.? It is just too unbelievably horrible to imagine. I want to believe this is fiction, but, but ?.?

Anna?s voice trailed off as she placed her face down in her hands and began to weep.? I reached my arm around her shoulders in a vain attempt to comfort her, knowing there was nothing I could say or do until I had read her English transcript of the diary myself.

?What do you have there that is so interesting? Julio asked me later that night as I huddled in a leather chair near a corner, reading from the thick stack of white translated papers.? I didn?t reply, but kept reading, transfixed.?

-------------------------------------------------

August 17, 1941

We are in western Ukraine, just east of the Polish frontier. We are encamped just outside?? a small village. This morning, just before we broke our encampment, I gathered the men and informed them of our next mission.? In support of Operation Barbarosa, the Fuehrer?s recently initiated plan for the conquest of Russia, our orders today are to neutralize the nearby village of Orbstecz, where known underground resistance operatives were being harbored.?

These orders, sent to me in code via the wireless last night from SS intelligence headquarters in Berlin, mandate that our unit uncover the village?s subversives at all cost, and, if possible, take them alive and interrogate them to obtain information vital to the Reich?s cause.

I mounted my half-track and headed the one kilometer east to Orbstecz, confident that my men would achieve today objectives.

?

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Tony awoke as Janine whispered. "I am sorry to wake you Tony. You have been recalled to London and there is a plane to catch. So you will please get dressed and come with us immediately." As she spoke she put her pistol back in her raincoat pocket, but he was sure that she would use it on Helga if she had to. She stood back while Tony quickly dressed. Their was a rustle of bedclothes and Fraulein Helga rose up on her elbows. "Where are you going mein liebchen, then she became aware of...

Diary of a fledgling dominatrix 2

Ethan gone. He proved himself unworthy and removed himself from the picture. I can't really articulate how I feel about this but every bit of it reinforces this.. self-awareness I'm experiencing. Like, I am an entity, a whole, stand-alone person. I used to think of Ethan as a piece of me. An extension of self that I needed; but now I think I felt that way because it wasn't Ok for me to want things. Like, I only ever deserved what I needed. Not anymore. Almost overnight I feel -- quite...

Diary Confessions Tales of Week Two

Introduction: We are step-Siblings of four years and wish to share our journey. TALES OF WEEK TWO TORI-LEE We were officially one week into our life changing journey and I must have had more eye opening experiences than I could ever remember. My mind was going a million miles an hour taking in everything I was learning. Which, at 18, lead my hormones to go crazy. Id never even lived with guys before, so after 7 days sharing a 40 foot bus with my mamas new man and his son I had urges and...

Diary Entries Of A Son8217s Lust For His Mother

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, narrated as excerpts from the diary. The excerpts narrate the secret thoughts, desires fantasies about various people in life. This story narrates the explicit incest between mom and son. Any person who is sensitive to close incest relations and doesn’t like such stories, please stop reading here. By continuing to read ahead, you agree that you are within the legal age limit and you are solely responsible for what you are reading, and neither the writer...

Incest

Diary of a house boy part one

March 7 Dear Dairy, Boy it sure has been busy around here for the past month or so, Mr. Foxx, he's my boss, has been entertaining a slew of clients and friends, it seems that someone's always showing up at the door!!! Of course since Mr. Foxx keeps me completely naked at all times in the apartment, sometimes the person on the other side of the door gets a big surprise when they see me standing there in the altogether, but more often than not they can't keep their eyes off my usually hard...

Gay

Britain under the Nazis Jack Boot part 3

Part one - https://xhamster.com/stories/britain-under-the-nazis-jack-boot-780274Part two - https://xhamster.com/stories/britain-under-the-nazis-jack-boot-part-2-837747Two days after the incident in the discipline room, Nancy and Mary, along with the rest of the dorm, were allowed back into general circulation. The disappearance of the dorm mistress and corporal had caused concern. Still, nobody in the German high command believed that the girls could have had anything to do with their...

Dont show up the football squad

I was watching the football squad go through their practice, the coach had asked me to come down to the field and observe the practice and if I wanted I could be his walk on tight end. I was already on the track team and was pretty fast, no, not the fastest, but pretty fast. After a few skirmishes, coach came over and asked me to take the position of tight end. I lined up the ball was snapped and the quarter back slammed the ball into my mid section as I ran by. Having the breath almost...

Nazis of the Undead

Obergefreiter Schroeder ran through the forest, most of the Mann's had given up. Not Schroeder. Nor his three top officers, Sturmbannführer's, Amsel, Fleischer, and Faust, who ran behind him armed with MP-40's. Faust turned around hearing the Americans drawing closer. He fired his MP-40, the weapon firing in a series of *pops* as fire was returned through the thick fog of the forest, except fast and furious. A thompson. "Surrender!" an American voice cried, "Fock you american...

Diary of a fledgling dominatrix 4

Dear Diary, The little cunt was a no-show. I guess I need to teach him what happens when he stands me up. Had an interesting little conversation with Margo today. She basically confronted me about why stupidname was crying in her office two days in a row. BTW, I'm getting a little tired of writing out stupidname, so I think I'm going to shorten it to SN if it's all the same to you Diary. I knew you'd understand. Anyway, I pretty much came clean to Margo, we're very good friends...

Diary of a Slave Merchant 2008 Full

There is also one brief scene of incest. Note: This is a continuation of "Diary of a Slave Merchant - 2007". It is recommended that you read it first, otherwise you might be a little lost for a while. Quick recap for the lazy: 40-something year-old Edward divorced, bought a house, kidnapped two girls, forced them to become sex slaves, sold one (Slave name: "Star") to an old college friend named Wayne who is now wealthy, fell in love with the other (slave name: "Baby") who was abused...

Diary of a Niece Part One

Today is my first day in my new studio apartment in Aunt’s house. Uncle and Father started working on it the day I was accepted in the State University here. For my 18th birthday Mother and Aunt took me shopping for furniture and curtains. I am situated in a turret in this old Victorian house. I feel kind of like a fairy princess up here. I think I am too excited to even miss Mother and Father yet! I am sure I will be happy here. I start classes next week. Aunt is going to the bookstore with...

Diary entry 62111

Diary entry 6/21/11 Hi diary, It’s me again!! Adriana is passed out after our wicked sex fest so I thought I’d bring you up to date! Anyway diary, you’ll never believe my fucking day! Weird and wild I’d say!! Anyway you remember Rod? I’m trying to forget the creep, believe me! I wrote to you about him back in the spring time, remember? As you know I stopped banging him about a month ago when I found him with his cock in that slutty ho he works with. I do miss that mans monster missile, he is...

Diary of a fledgling dominatrix 4

Introduction: Wednesday 9/25 and Thursday, 9/26 Wednesday 9/25 Dear Diary, The little cunt was a no-show. I guess I need to teach him what happens when he stands me up. Had an interesting little conversation with Margo today. She basically confronted me about why stupidname was crying in her office two days in a row. BTW, Im getting a little tired of writing out stupidname, so I think Im going to shorten it to SN if its all the same to you Diary. I knew youd understand. Anyway, I pretty...

Diary Of Anjali Sharma 8211 Part 1

Hey Guys!! I am so privileged to receive emails and comments for your appreciation towards my earlier series. It doesn’t mean anything to me..:P So here I am, with another experience which I came through recently.. Our family was so happy, except for me, as my dad had a huge profit in the business, and decided to move in a BIGGER HOUSE, fuck the size. My secret affair was going so good. Alisha and I, we almost tried every position possible, the dream of cumming on her face was accomplished,...

Diary Of A Special Girl

12th FebruaryI bought James the most amazing present today. Had to nip out at 11.00 to Bond Street to get it. It wasn’t worth wasting a lunch break on, and James might have got suspicious if I made an excuse to miss our ‘fun time’ together. Thank god I can come and go as I please at work. It’s not as if the boss is going to tell me off lol, and nobody else dares. They are perfect for him. Ivory cufflinks, with a small, subtle ‘£’ etched into the pearly square. He’s going to love them....

Office Sex

MILF vs Nerd Squad

I had started to work at a local computer store helping in customer service. I had taken a few college courses in computer design and graphics. I was pretty handy when it came to fixing computers and when a new department at the store started I transferred to the Nerd Squad. Most of the jobs for the first week were for help setting up new computers at home. Helping with customers questions and problems. I had hooked up a few computers at a college and a computer at the town hall. It was just...

The Hollywood Squad

You truly have the best job in all of Hollywood. You are a member of what has become known as the 'Hollywood Squad.' Known behind the scenes of course, the Hollywood Squad wasn’t something the power brokers of the film industry liked to advertise. But they serve an important task: Keeping the starlets of Hollywood in line. Hollywood executives loved having a bunch of sexy women in their movies, tabloids, and red carpets. They also loved having a bunch of sexy women to suck and sit on their...

The Virgin Squad

The Virgin Squad My daughter Valerie just turned thirteen a week before school had let out for the summer. Her five best friends forever were in attendance as expected. The six of them all have names that start with a V and they are all virgins so the rest of their classmates call them the Virgin Squad. They are Veronica, Virginia, Vanessa, Vivian, and Vicky. Now that my daughter has had her birthday they are all thirteen as well. Everything had been arranged in advance that they...

Diary Of An Arrogant Slut

PREFACE [While going through a trash bin at school looking for recyclables I found a diary. Incredibly it just happened to belong to someone I knew. Not being a friend of mine, I decided to publish it so that everyone at school would know the real girl. It starts shortly after her high school graduation and moves to State College. I edited out some of the boring days.] August 21- I’ve decided to write a diary to keep track of my thoughts and experiences since I intend to write an...

Diary of a Slave Merchant 2008 part 1

Here are the last few entries from the 2007 diary: December 12th, 2007 8:34pm Baby has a couple of promising prospects at the runaway shelter. She is working on one in particular. A blond with a streak of black in her hair. Nice body, attractive, very bad attitude. She has three or four piercings, dresses in black and is a real tough 'Nobody-fucks-with-me' hard-ass. Right up my alley She told the girl she was going to go live at her uncles house and that she would talk to him...

Diary of an Incubus Ch 02

My intention is to release my entire erotic novel in chapters. I hope you enjoy my writing. Constructive feedback is always appreciated. Copyright 2014 by D.J. Winters All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and...

diary pt3

‘Shh…’ is all she said before she rolled on top of me and kissed me. It was then that I knew where the expression ‘seeing stars’ had come from. Jeanie kissed me senseless. Her lips were ravenous as they attacked mine. She massaged my lips with hers until I opened up to give her access into my depths. Pushing her tongue through my open lips, she explored slowly, licked and sucked until she had stolen all my oxygen. Pulling away, we were both breathing hard. ‘Jeanie, you’re hurt right now, I...

Diary of a fledgling dominatrix 3

Introduction: Tuesday, 9/24 Dear Diary, So I molested stupidname again. I was actually kind of surprised that he even came in today, but as a weeks-old employee he basically has 0 vacation time accrued and he already took three days when I broke his heart (lol), so he probably figures hes already at -3 days and he needs to hedge his bets against having to quit before I corner him in a nap room and fuck him in the ass. Believe it or not, he even tried to man up and stand-up to me today (so...

Diary of a fledgling dominatrix

Introduction: Tuesday, 9/17 Dear diary, ,tldr: Ethan Greenburg is a fucking loser. I guess its good Im finally realizing this now before he managed to knock me up or worse — marry me. He shows up last night, drunk off his ass past 3am, crashing and banging his way up the stairs, so I get up and hes sprawled out on the couch with all of his shit laying around, and Im like WHAT THE FUCK ETHAN?! Id give you three guesses diary, but youd get it in one because youve heard this story before, his...

Diary of Sheila E

An amazing story, read till the end you won't regret it!Diary of Sheila E.I became a hooker earlier this year. At first I just did lap dances, no touching, a bit of extra cash to spend, but my boyfriend got sent to prison and we both had huge gambling debts. The mob wanted us to pay them huge installments to pay off the debt. I had to resort to escort services and extreme hardcore pornography to make a fast buck. There was a place in town (LA) that paid out big amounts. The downside was they...

diary pt3

"Shh..." is all she said before she rolled on top of me and kissed me. It was then that I knew where the expression 'seeing stars' had come from. Jeanie kissed me senseless. Her lips were ravenous as they attacked mine. She massaged my lips with hers until I opened up to give her access into my depths. Pushing her tongue through my open lips, she explored slowly, licked and sucked until she had stolen all my oxygen. Pulling away, we were both breathing hard. "Jeanie, you're hurt right now, I...

Diary Valerie L Sinclaire Pt1

Diary of Valerie L. Sinclaire, & the Whispers in her ears. August 1st 2018 7:00AM First Entry Date, Part 1 of Many, Diary Arch Saga Story. Today the voices were loud to loud & the only way to make the quite again was by giving into them. But first I must tell you my story & why I have voices in my ears whispering horrifing thoughts. Few years ago I think I died or something it only felt like a split second but thats all it took. One morning I woke up used the...

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