Fucking By Her Jija

The cage he… or rather, she… had been hung in was woven, also. Wherever that incident had taken place (most likely somewhere in the British Isles ...ecause of the medieval castles), they didn’t seem to have an abundance of iron, but they certainly knew how to weave grass. He grinned, thinking that maybe that was where Béla thought she’d learned how to do it. She evidently missed a few steps of the process, never realizing she might need to weave it herself, someday.The other thing he noticed was. Bess was still a virgin. She had seen only 18 winters in the harsh rugged moors. Never a school, never a dance, and never a boy's kiss on her ruby red lips. Her Father needed her in his struggle to feed the family. The poaching was not all she knew. Bess was quite adept at lifting a wallet from a fat merchant's hip. Her silent movements were matched by her speed. On those rare days when she was detected, she sped away safely into the forest. She had never been caught, for no legs could match. More

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