He made it even harder by letting his hand move from her ass around to the front, kneading her thighs and then wandering to her lips, gingerly proddin... to gauge her wetness, his findings eliciting a sigh of satisfaction from him as his cock grew harder and strained against his boxers. He ran his index finger lightly around her mound, tracing its outline, making her wet enough for the juice to drip onto his waiting finger as he whispered, “mmmm… that’s what I was waiting for….” His traces grew. He always did. It was a part of him, the very thing that kept his heart beating, it was something that he relished feeling every day, that feeling of absolute power, and control. Knowing that he held their lives in his hands, as they begged and pleaded. Grant was a career rapist, he had 45 victims at last count, and he was going to add more. The thrill of the hunt for pussy, unavailable pussy, made his mouth water, and his cock hard. It was the only thing that did. He needed them to be. More

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