The yellow press had been dominated by two international stories that summer. One was the daring infiltration of the Dark Wolves motorcycle gang by the Waldenstein police – some welcome publicity for a force still associated with the repression of the old regime and chiefly remembered for being manipulated by the famous cannibal cult – and the other was the spate of gruesome murders in a little Baltic peninsula attributed to the mysterious “Barber of Borstad”. This was where Janika was headed. For almost two weeks she had cruised to and fro along the stretch of coast where most of the women had disappeared, hitchhiking on lonely roads and drinking alone in dockland and roadside bars. She had been close to abandoning the project, she told Carissa as she deftly delineated the secret symbol onto her exposed flesh, when a blue coastguard jeep pulled up alongside her on the road to a desolate headland. A square-jawed, fresh-faced young man leant out of the window and addressed her in a friendly and concerned manner. He wore a short-sleeved white indian shirt with epaulettes and a black baseball cap over his blond curls – a uniform of some kind, it seemed. “I’m sorry. Do you speak English?” she replied, amateur bending at the waist so that her leather jacket fell open and her breasts swayed before her. “Of course. I said that it is dangerous to be alone out here. May I give you a ride somewhere? Perhaps people are expecting you”? “I would be so grateful.” Janika simpered “So very grateful. I am completely lost, and nobody knows where I am. Please take me with you”. His bright blue kissing eyes ranged up and down her athletic body, underdressed for the autumn winds, and then quickly flickered to the side to confirm that the road was still empty of traffic. “Jump in, Miss,” he said, easily “I am Oscar and it is my pleasure to help”. The door swung open; she unslung her rucksack and climbed in. “We drove for a while, away from the coast and away from the main road and I gave him the story of a foolish and adventurous back-packer alone in his country” Janika told Carissa, stabbing burnt umber ink into her most sensitive skin, disregarding her realamateur laboured breathing and trembling thighs. “He concentrated on the road and let me talk, but I know he caught some of the coy, sideways glances I threw at him. I think he understood that he was very nicely put together. Eventually, we drew up outside an abandoned log-cabin in the middle of nowhere, weed-ridden and with moss growing thickly on the roof. For the first time, he seemed unsure of himself, so I smiled sweetly and suggested that we go inside”. The interior of the cabin was pitch-black and there was a strange, sweet odour partly masked by the smell of rotten wood and neglect. Janika stood just inside the doorway while Oscar struck a match and lit a paraffin lamp. She had a pink pair of panties with bands of white lace down the crotch. His eyes moved quickly indian to hers and he began to shade. All of a sudden I needed to pee really bad. It would have been to easy to just take them into my mouth one by one and give out that total pleasure of getting sucked off by a girl. Want to be my date?" But other than a couple of kissing blank stares nothing had changed. Oh that was very naughty of you she said. I thought to myself. I used the other hand to slide down under her pants and started rubbing her clit and put one finger up her hot hole. And as she turned amateur to leave, all 3 men watched her ass go. Then another, then another. There were three more messages from my stalker waiting for me. I stopped dead in my tracks, I could tell they were sending them quicker and I felt my skin break out in goosebumps from realamateur not just the realization, but how precise the times were. Her eyes widened in understanding. Trully - second Jinn doc Rasmir’s little sister “Listen, you should just get some rest. Jessica then walks to the bed and sits down.