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So off we marched, with AK-47s poking g into our back’s and our hands above our heads, into the little rural village of Smirnsk with 7 husband-less, and presumably irrate, horny and sexually-frustrated middle-aged women. They had us. We were theirs to do with us as they pleased.That night found us holed up in their Temporary village “Gulag” which was little more than a ramshackle, wooden Shack with a couple of windows made of decrepit, rotting iron bars. It was an unsavory condition at best.So dick finally coaxed the Busty woman “Stoya”, guarding us, to let us out into the main Den and Communal Gathering Hall where the rest of the Guerilla Widows were getting wasted on Vodka, cheap Cigars and Russian Beer which they’d hijacked from the train Shipments.As we entered the Communal House, the place was in CHAOS!”, Dick recalled at a later recounting.Albeit there were only 7 husband-less wives in that room, it was nevertheless a madhouse, with a brawl between two of the women, another. Smack. Despite the reproaches, despite the slaps, she kept pushing back trying desperately to have him inside her. She began to whimper, she was punished for that. She gasped, she was punished for that as well. Then, finally, he relented to her.She yowled like a beaten cat as he entered her. She had never known such relief though the desire to have him was sated the desire for more grew to a fever that shook her whole body. And yet again the hand came down with yet further reproach. How she was a common harlot, how she belonged in a Bangkok brothel, how she would gladly take any sailor with tuppence to spend on her charms. And at that moment, she knew it was all too true, for too long she had let her desires go unsatisfied, and it had reduced her to this, she was no better than a bitch in heat as Bradley so plainly put it with another slap. This time, as she neared climax, Mr. Bradley did not relent, did not stop, did not pause. The dam broke within her and she collapsed in a fit of.
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