>>2540285No sooner have these words left her lips than she crouches forward, allowing me to glimpse her face and confirm that it is indeed her. Almost immediately I notice that she is naked; I can feel a violent twinge in my bollockpipe as it stands erect. She says mischievously, "you want me, but you can't have me!" She turns around while standing and crouches until her peachy British bottom is inches from my face. She takes her hands, places one on each buttock and spreads widely so I can see her dark grey shitnozzle. She moves even closer, close enough that I can smell the strong musky aroma of her hole, which is sweaty and throbbing. I am so enticed by the sight of her turdcrimper that I resolve to accept whatever punishment will follow from an imminent sexual assault. To taste this pleasure will mean straddling multiple pleasure dimensions and so, the fear of any earthly punishment is insignificant to me. I vow to take hold of my prize and slobber ravenously at her vinegar pungent shitfolds... I attempt to reach out and secure my prey but, alas, how could this be, I am completely paralysed? I cannot move closer to the hanging fruits of the Goblin-faced girl-ogre. The burning in my cock extends all the way down to my blunderbarse, but still, I cannot move my limbs. Only then do I hear her laugh. She laughs with girlish glee at my plight, to exist in eternity in a torturous state of blueballs. I lie here in agonies indescribably for what seems like a millennium, all the while watching her rub her dripping quim and dance coquettishly. Eventually I wake. This nightmare is a friend to me now, for it is bound with my soul, a symbolic holding-to-the-mirror of my own mortality and fruitless struggle against the night. Sometimes in a darkened room, I hear her laugh. I turn around, but nobody is there. I am always the only one there. I suffer, yet I persist. Perhaps this is the worst fate of all.
