She: The conqueror, I’m no brute and your cries of pain move me. I gently withdraw my weapon, kneel down and caress your ass, tenderly planting kisses on your muscular hips, thighs and buttocks. Then I begin licking, as a dog tending to a wound, with long, languid strokes of my tongue. I gently part your cheeks and run my tongue down your crack. You have stopped moving and have dropped your weight onto the dark stranger. Your trust has been broken, yet you don’t protest, enjoying this new sensation. With such delicacy I poke my wet pink tongue into your violated hole and all is forgiven...
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