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Angela ran and I scanned the kitchen for a weapon. The kitchen knives were too big or awkward, but her skinning knife was flat and came with a sheath and strap that I secured to my forearm. Angela bolted down with the first of bags. Taking the blue bags from her, I ran out the back to the barn where we stored the car. As I reached the doors and swung them open, I saw movement just to my right. I turned."Don't move!" came the command in perfect English, "F.B.I."I looked the man up and down in his black suit and white shirt. His Asian face was emotionless. He was my height with a trim build, but the suit stood out because it fit him so well. His suits fit better than my suits ever did and I paid decent money in department stores. The incongruity clicked in my head.I dropped the bags beside me and calmly challenged, "You're not the F.B.I."He smiled and then went into an attack stance. He ran at me and shot out his right foot, almost as fast as Kristy, but only 'almost.' I blocked it and. He brought his fingertips to one of them and caressed it gently. Its tip hardened and seemed to stab into the air more sharply and saucily than ever. He heard her catch her breath."Like that, honey?" he asked, his palms sweating."Ummm yes," she enthusiastically responded. She squirmed on the bed and in his other hand he felt the sweet pressure of her thighs lock on his fingers. She drew them apart quickly. She hadn't realized just where his other hand was, only that it was barely touching the leg bands of her panties once in a while. She was embarrassed at being so bold with her careless thighs.Fire shot through his groin at the smooth touch of her leggy trap. "That's okay," he urged. "Leave your legs there. Go ahead and trap my hand, it'll make you feel good to have something between your legs. You ever have anything there before... you ever play with yourself sometimes in bed at night?" No," she answered honestly. But she was thinking of her little friend, Gwen, and thought she.
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