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Summer was just ending, but not a single leaf could be seen on any of the trees. They stood gaunt and lifeless, bare fingers reaching up to the stars. From above, one would see only a vast circle of gray and brown, like a cigarette burn on the flesh of Mother Nature. Once the truck passed that perimeter, something stirred in the woman, piercing and cold. It was a fear that human words couldn’t properly describe, the sharpest fear she had ever felt, an icy razor slowly severing the muscle threads of her heart. Until now, she had been utterly terrified of the man next to her, afraid of what he would do to her, but she now felt safer in that truck with him than tossed out into this dead zone. Her most teen primeval instincts were telling her that she was in a danger like no other. She looked to the man, her captor, and yet somehow the closest thing she had to a Guardian. She hoped to see that fear in him, to prove that she was not alone in feeling this oppression, but also hoped she wouldn’t, that he would be completely calm, showing that he still remained the thing that she should be most afraid of. She shuddered at the sight, a bloodthirsty petite grin on his face, eyes gleaming with ambition. He did feel what she felt, but he did not register it as fear. Finally, the man pulled onto a dirt road. After a pov hundred years, it should have been overgrown, but nothing lived here. Life itself had left this place behind. He drove through the woods, coming out the other side into a clearing a mile in diameter. The women felt her sweat freeze, her lungs shriveling up. The land was cloaked in fog, but the moon above shone unhindered, and its light revealed a circular hill with a structure at the top. It was a ring of stone pillars, each one the size of a car, with huge arches, forming a perfect Stonehenge. “This is the mass grave I spoke of. That hill is manmade, a thin layer of soil covering a mountain of corpses. Those pillars are the grave marker.” The woman wasn’t listening. She had her face pressed to the window, eyes trembling. She could see movement in the fog, invisible forms darting in and out of the darkness, leaving the vapor curling in their wake. “They are made of the spirits of the dead,” said the man. The woman looked at him. “But do not mistake that for a sign of humanity. I told you before, oral shaved death strips souls of all that makes them human and twists them with darkness, leaving them as only malicious wraiths that feed on life itself. What possessed all those people one hundred years ago, it was the collective will of the Sea of the Dead, a chaotic nebula of horror and madness without a single solid thought, save for the desire to eclipse life. What you are looking at are the resulting forms of that collection, demons made of the blended existences of the dead and formed within their human hosts. They are drawn to us because they sense our living bodies, our fresh souls. Because so many of their vessels have gathered together and come undone, they are able to partially manifest themselves. I imagine they’ve killed everyone and everything within five miles of this grave.” The man then opened the door beside him, showing no fear in forsaking the small security of the truck. He grabbed a large duffle bag from the back and slung it over this shoulder, then went around to the other side and dragged out the woman. She kicked and screamed, fear running through her veins like ice water. Mary clipped the stockings to the garter belt and oral slipped her aching feet into the 5" heels. How would we help Ava then? About the dangers of it. I was starting to be intrigued. I hesitated a little and he insisted me to go there. As you told the good man from Ardeni just now, I’ve been your ambassador for a fortnight. I grabbed his cock and shuddered. She could see their cocks and how similar they looked to the man teen at the brothel. About forty-five minutes later, Bert and James walked in. They spotted us right away and then began noticeably scanning the large room for Harvey and Gary. I knew he wanted to put it inside my cunny, and he moved it back and forth until it was just inside me, then pushed me down so that nearly all of it shaved was inside me. He sometimes just petite left it there as he played with my titties. Don't you like compliments?" “Why can’t I?” Juice pov asked. “Tina, Von, listen carefully, your dad and I have been talking this over and we think that it would be a good idea if you two shared a bed, to become intimate.