Faith felt no sensation in her artificial penis, for it lacked nerves and could feel nothing. She felt deprived. In playing the male, shed like to feel what a man felt, not merely a simulation or a facsimile of what he felt. She wanted to feel the actual feelings themselves. Instead, her cock-that-wasnt-a-cock, although it poked and slid and, eventually, would pierce and slide, fucking like a real prick, it would remain what it was--a mere dildo, unable to join, to feel, to overcome the gulf that she forever

Kennedy ignored her lovers startled outburst, as she disregarded everything else, focused entirely upon her girlfriends sopping cunt, rigid clitoris, and slick, wet labia. Willows hands pushed Kennedy away. "What was that?" she demanded again. Kennedy glared at her. "What was what?" she asked crossly. "Listen!" Willow hissed. The cliff overlooking Rio de Janeiro was backed with a thick jungle, wherein darkness crept as shadows among the

This time, however, his fight against the Cincinnati Hellmouth was more personal. This time, it wasnt about loyalty; it wasnt about saving the world. It was about vengeance. It was about Anya. Although Xander hadnt seen Anyas death himself, Andrew Wells, whod been with her at the time shed died when Xander should have been the one who was there, had told him how shed met her fate.

Volume I - Cincinnati Apocalypse by Cal Y. Pygia "So, ladies," the dashing, dark-haired young man asked, looking back and forth between his date, Buffy Summers, and Buffys kid sister, Dawn, who, as usual, had tagged along on their outing, not that the youth, Nathan Wells, minded--or, at least, not much, "where to next? Pirates of the Caribbean? Splash Mountain? Star Tours?" "Weve been there, done that," Dawn complained. Most of her life, since becoming Buffys little sister, Dawn had complained about something. Sometimes, it seemed that she complained about everything. It was part of the nature, Buffy figured, that the monks whod created Dawn, had given her.

Bigger than a Hells Angel or Dog the Bounty Hunter. "Oof!" he cried as he fell forward, scraping his palms as he used his hands to break his fall. He looked up and back, to see that his luck, which was bad, was holding true. Of all people or, he supposed he should say, dogs, hed tripped over none other than Mickey Mouses dog, Pluto. "Oaf?" The muffled voice inside the gargantuan head of the Pluto-costumed entertainer cried. "You tripped over me. If anyones the oaf, its you." "I didnt say oaf," Giles replied. "I said oof." "Why would anybody say oof?" Pluto demanded.

Beyond Adventureland was New Orleans Square so, presumably the park was in Louisiana, not Anaheim, California, after all, Giles told himself and, beyond it, Critter Country. To the right of Critter Country lay Frontierland, then Fantasyland, and, finally, the circular park came round, as it were, once more, to Tomorrowland. The vast size of the park was intimidating, even with the map in hand, especially when he had to find one person among the thousands who milled and strolled about the wide lanes, crowded the various