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I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of orange juice, taking a sip to clear out the nasty taste in my mouth. I make my way to the main bedroom and slip put of my red tight, overexposed shirt and snuggle into bed next to John. I'm behind him and I'm cold, so I spoon him and my fingertips work their way up his chest and back down. I feel his heartbeat start to quicken as I make my way down his hairy, manly body and to the waistband of his pants.I push my lips against his back and close my eyes, hoping to fall asleep like this.He turns around though and kisses my forehead. He's not my boyfriend nor my husband but he's loving, gentle, romantic. I push myself harder against him, wanting to feel his protective arms around me. He quickly notices my intentions and pulls me up on top of him, where I lay my head on his chest.He slides his fingers up and down my body, the tip of his fingers hitting my bra. he keeps on sliding his arm up and down before he unclips it with one quick,. I start unzipping her shorts and let her wiggle free of them as I realize she isn’t wearing anything under them. Commando? Can this girl get any sexier? I think to myself. I spread her legs apart and let my finger slip in between her pussy lips. My finger is instantly covered in her pussy juices. "Damn, you're soaked," I say slightly shocked. She bashfully smiles at me. "Yeah, I tend to get like that." My fingers circle around her clit, making her thrust her hips up at me. "Oh fuck, Marley, go faster!" she yells out as I move my fingers as fast as I can before slipping one of them into her just to tease her. I move my finger in and out of her slowly making her suffer for a little. She grabs my neck and pulls me down so my face is inches from her. "Put another finger in me or else." Even though I'm curious to know what the 'or else' is, I slip another finger into her. I instantly feel her pussy walls tighten around my fingers as I continuously hit her G-spot. I don't even.
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She ate soup that was doled out by makeshift soup kitchens and slept in the doorways of boarded-up shops. By chance, she heard of another refugee centre in Reigate that might be able to help her if she was willing to work there for no pay. Tamara's main concerns were food and sleep rather than money, so she walked the twenty kilometres or more across the suburban sprawl and decaying slums to Reigate.South London had suffered badly from generations of neglect. The wealthy lived in gated communities or along well-appointed avenues guarded at both ends by private security guards. The less privileged lived in overcrowded and rotting houses. Many were refugees who'd migrated not from distant war-torn or famine-struck foreign countries but from the hinterland of the River Thames that had finally been overwhelmed by the rising tide. The traffic in South London's congested roads was a miscellaneous assortment of electric cars and buses, bicycle-driven vehicles and even make-shift carts.

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