Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes

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Labels: religion and politics and heresy. Poverty and the priest. The Fourth War. Thursday, June 09, The Novena for Pentecost. Labels: Common mystic prayer. Labels: love the photo , stupid stuff. A Bully Old Chap. Labels: Bully for you. How to handle a bully My little mud-turtle Labels: Life is a sitcom. Wednesday, June 08, Is St. John's Abbey in Collegeville Minnesota a hotbed of decadence? Labels: monastic horror stories. Sarah Palin may be Pro-Choice. Labels: How many followers can I lose in one day.

Is the X-men a gay parable? Labels: Nothing. Born this way. Tuesday, June 07, Dawn Eden's new project. Labels: dawn eden , Saints. Weiner weinen Labels: cell phones - the new glory holes , Facebook talk , men and internet porn. Monday, June 06, Kevorkian's art. Labels: Art. The Pride. A neighbor heard a strange noise and looked out her window to see a man sitting in the truck and two others fumbling with the ladder. Something seemed off, so she wrote down the license plate number before the truck drove away. Mary Barnes had just moved into the house with her boyfriend a few days earlier, staying down the hall from Mitchell in the master bedroom.

The boyfriend was out of town, and Barnes came home from work to an empty house. A ground floor window was open, oddly. Someone could have stepped right in, she thought as she closed it and then went to bed. Mitchell got home from the dispensary later. He fell asleep on the couch watching TV. It was a normal weeknight. Around a. Down the hall, Mitchell woke to a flashlight and a shotgun in his face.

He reached out to grab the barrel, but the gun swung around and hit him in the head. He was choked by one person and punched repeatedly by another. He briefly lost consciousness and defecated. When he came to, he was on the floor, being bound, blindfolded and gagged. The stronger attacker grabbed his feet and dragged him downstairs, his face hitting each step on the way. They dumped him by the garage and ransacked the house. Barnes was tied up right next to him. Soon, both were carried into the garage and loaded into the back of a vehicle.

Another person began driving. They drove for hours, and the cycle of beatings and questioning continued. Mitchell was stomped, hit on the bottom of his feet with a rubber hose, and burned with a blowtorch. Spanish-language radio was blaring. The van slowed down, and the pavement turned to dirt. They drove about half a mile then stopped. Barnes and Mitchell were dumped on the ground. The threats became more intense. The men gathered around Mitchell.

As he lay there bleeding, a liquid was poured all over his body. Then they walked away. Once the sound of the van kicking gravel faded, Barnes used her knees to push the blindfold from over her eyes. She saw the blade, scooted over and grabbed it behind her back. Then she immediately moved back over to Mitchell and, looking over her shoulder, cut the tape that was wrapped over his mouth. She asked if he was OK, and he said yes. Bending back, she managed to cut the zip ties around her ankles.

Barnes could see headlights on a highway nearby. Mitchell was bleeding heavily and needed help. Barefoot in pajamas, her hands bound behind her, she walked over rocks and dirt down to the road, a straightaway on State Route The sun was coming up. They were just shocked.

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Around 7 a. He freed Barnes from the zip ties, and she told him where Mitchell was and what had happened. Backup was already on its way. They reached Mitchell a few minutes later. The stench of bleach was overpowering, Williams testified. Mitchell asked for water. He and Barnes were loaded into separate ambulances and rushed to Antelope Valley Hospital, about 25 miles away.

By this time, the kidnappers in the van had been driving for at least an hour. It was thrown out the window somewhere along the way. After interviewing Mitchell in the hospital three days later and confirming his acquaintance with Handley, detectives obtained a warrant. He was arrested. The police were still searching the premises.

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It was only a matter of time before their investigation would lead them to Nayeri. Within days, he was on a plane to Iran. Newport Beach police conducted a search of her car and confiscated phones, surveillance cameras and GPS trackers. The SIM card in the tracker was associated with a TrackingTheWorld account, and investigators were able to determine that the email address that was used to initiate its service had been created in late May through an internet connection in the offices of a business in Fresno. This connection would lead police to investigate both Kevorkians, discovering that Naomi had rented the van and purchased the guns used during the kidnapping.

Shegerian also became a suspect. In April, detectives called her in, ostensibly to hand over objects confiscated from her car. But at the police station, they questioned her about Nayeri. Shegerian refused to talk. She left the station and told Nayeri about the encounter shortly afterward. She soon had an attorney. Knowing the incriminating nature of her involvement with Nayeri and the surveillance equipment, Shegerian and her attorney arranged another meeting with detectives in May and made a deal to cooperate. Shegerian was soon coordinating with detectives to find a way to Nayeri, who had been living in Iran for the past seven months, a country with no extradition agreement with the U.

While he was in Iran, U. So a ruse was set, and Shegerian was the lure. She had to play a slow game, gradually convincing Nayeri she was on his side. Over months, in conversations she recorded and gave to Newport Beach police, she rebuilt his trust in her. They started making plans for her to travel and give him money. A flight was booked, and on November 7, , six months after Shegerian agreed to cooperate with law enforcement, Nayeri boarded a plane in Iran. Shegerian and his sister were already on their way to Barcelona. His flight landed in Prague for a brief layover. He was arrested as soon as he got off the plane.

His now ex-wife, Naomi Rhodus, was out on bail. Kyle Handley had been in jail the longest, since October 6, , just four days after the crime was committed. Their next pretrial hearings were days away, and a jury trial was likely to begin in about a month. Their charges included kidnapping for ransom, torture and aggravated mayhem. All three faced life in prison. But Nayeri had another plan.

Sometime on Friday, January 22, in a jail dorm housing 67 other inmates, Nayeri crouched between two bunk beds. A phone camera filmed as he reached over to the wall and grabbed onto a metal grate. Somehow, it had been cut, and Nayeri pulled it from the wall to reveal a rectangular opening about 1 foot by 2 feet. Nayeri crawled through headfirst.

His arm reached back and gave a thumbs up. The video, later edited, narrated by Nayeri and posted online, details what would become a weeklong escape alongside jailmates Bac Duong, 43, and Jonathan Tieu, 20, both facing charges of attempted murder. The men moved through the innards of the jail, posing for smiling photos, before reaching the roof, where officials later found a rope of bedsheets leading to the ground. Nayeri, Duong and Tieu wound up in Westminster, California, a few miles from the jail.

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They called a cab and went shopping. After stops at Target and Walmart, they turned a gun on the driver, took over his car and held him captive. They stole a van, and the two vehicles started a multiday trip north. Law enforcement sent out urgent alerts about the escaped inmates. Media across the state and the country published their mugshots and followed along with the manhunt. The fugitives and their captive moved north. In a San Jose motel room, Nayeri and Duong got into an argument about the cab driver.

It was nearly a week after their escape, and Nayeri reportedly wanted to kill the driver. Duong refused. After a debate, Duong returned to Orange County with the cab driver and turned himself in. Nayeri and Tieu made their way to San Francisco. In the back of the stolen van, Tieu pointed the camera at Nayeri, who was holding a small glass pipe. Just trying to pass time, trying to weather the storm. All the basics. What do you want; you want some bananas? The camera turns back to his face, chewing gum, his goatee and mustache recently shaved, his eyes barely open, a week after breaking out of the Orange County Jail.

The next day, Nayeri stepped outside and a homeless man recognized his face from the news. He contacted a police officer, and after a brief chase, Nayeri was arrested. Tieu was found hiding in the van. It ends with a monologue over a still of one of his mugshots, his dark hair tousled, his beard full. More than that, we scared the hell out of people, and caused a lot of anxiety and fear. In handcuffs, a dark suit and white collared shirt, Kyle Handley was escorted into an Orange County courtroom, his face a bit sad, his hair a bit thin. His family was in the courtroom as well, and he offered a slight nod to them before being seated at the defense table.

Over six days, Orange County deputy district attorneys Heather Brown and Matt Murphy laid out the elaborate crime, and the months-long effort to track down the perpetrators. The cases against Ryan Kevorkian and Naomi Rhodus are pending. Court adjourned for the day. When the jury returned the next morning, they entered the deliberation room. Given the extent of the testimony and the relatively high bar of establishing a unanimous vote among 12 jurors, a long deliberation was expected.

The few dozen people in the audience trickled out. Brown left the courthouse to get her hair done. After less than two hours of deliberation, the jury came to a verdict. On four counts — kidnapping for extortion, kidnapping with intent to harm, aggravated mayhem, and torture — the jury unanimously found Handley guilty.

In July, he was sentenced to life in prison without parole. Standing next to his attorney, Handley shook his head and looked down. Then he sat and put a hand to his eyes. Mitchell was sitting with his family and his girlfriend in the audience. As the four guilty verdicts were read, he leaned his head back and looked upward. His girlfriend reached over and held his hand. We humans are far more complex than the news headlines and clickbait would have you believe. Let the Narratively newsletter be your guide.

Love this Narratively story? Sign up for our Newsletter. Send us a story tip. Become a Patron. Follow us. How a brilliant scientist went from discovering a mother lode of treasure at the bottom of the sea to fleeing from authorities with suitcases full of cash. Thompson had long insisted that he suffers from neurological problems and chronic fatigue syndrome, which impairs his memory, and that his meandering explanations were a symptom of the distress foisted upon him.

Thompson was genuinely sickened and overwhelmed, however, and he found it extremely frustrating that nobody seemed to take his condition seriously. In the 30 years since, the weight of the find had upended partnerships, ended his marriage, and set loose the specter of greed. What began as a valiant mission of science turned into something else entirely.

O n September 11, , about 7, feet beneath the surface of the Atlantic Ocean, a set of glowing orbs moved smoothly through the darkness and illuminated the mysterious world below. That far down there are few currents, the water is close to freezing, and it is almost pitch black. The only light typically comes from the bioluminescent creatures that float by like ghosts, but in this case the lights were from a six-ton, unmanned vessel. The Nemo , looking like an industrial freezer with two robotic arms, made a small adjustment to its thrusters and hovered above the scattered remains of a sunken ship.

Video of the wreckage was relayed to a vessel bobbing above, giving the crew — and the world — the first look at a ship whose location had stymied treasure hunters for generations. It was the SS Central America , a massive side-wheel steamship that sank in a hurricane off the coast of South Carolina in The find was remarkable for many reasons. The artifacts eventually recovered from the ship were a window into a bygone era and gave voice to the hundreds of people who were pulled into the abyss. But the discovery was also a spectacular victory for pocketbooks — the ship was carrying gold when it sank, and lots of it: coins, bars and nuggets of every size surrounded the wreck and covered its decks and rotting masts.

And that was only what the crew could see — somewhere in the remains were said to be between 3 and 21 tons of gold, a haul some experts valued at close to half a billion dollars. For Thompson, the Edisonian genius who masterminded the expedition, the discovery was the first salvo of what looked to be a long, impressive career.

He became an American hero, a mix of brains and daring in the tradition of the scientist-adventurers of yore. But Thompson was subjected to a legal hell storm as soon as he set foot on shore. Numerous people and companies were vying for their share of the gold, and the unending litigation was compounded by the lawsuits filed by investors who claimed Thompson had ripped them off.

In , long after the litigation had sidetracked his calling, Thompson went underground, allegedly taking with him suitcases full of cash and gold. Months later, Thompson was staying under an assumed name at a hotel in Boca Raton, Florida, trying to keep his faculties in check. He was unkempt, unwell and barely left his hotel room, as he had been on the run from federal authorities for the past two and a half years.

From the witness stand in Columbus, Thompson disclosed startling information in a story already laden with tragedy and fortunes lost — and shed light on the mystery of millions in still-missing gold. The pressure 8, feet below the sea is times greater than on the surface, and Tommy Thompson was squeezed by something even more intense for the better part of 30 years. He grew up in Defiance, Ohio, a small city in the northwestern corner of the state. He was always drawn to the water, and he enjoyed challenging friends to breath-holding contests.

When he was a teenager, he bought and fixed up an amphibious car, and he loved pranking his friends by driving unsuspecting passengers into a lake. Rife with lore, the hunters spoke of ships sunken somewhere out in the ocean with more gold than could ever be spent. However, nobody knew quite where to start looking, nor could they afford the technology necessary to undertake the search. Following his graduation from The Ohio State University with a degree in ocean engineering, Thompson went to work for the Battelle Memorial Institute, a prominent research lab in Columbus that has developed everything from kitchen appliances to nuclear weapons.

There, he was able to work on deep-sea engineering projects, at one point developing technology that allowed the U. Thompson wanted to work exclusively in deep water but was routinely warned that such jobs were hard to come by. So he began looking for other ways to pursue this heady scientific passion. It was actually the means to an end. One of the first orders of business was to find the perfect wreck to hunt. Thompson worked with Bob Evans, an equivalently intelligent polymath and professional geologist, to winnow down the list of candidate ships. The Central America ferried passengers to and from California at the height of the Gold Rush in the mid 19th century.

Six hundred people, and up to 21 tons of gold coming from California, were aboard the Central America when it disembarked to New York from a stopover in Cuba on September 3, Five days later, the ship found herself floundering in the middle of a terrifying hurricane. Passengers attempted a hour nonstop bucket brigade to keep the ship afloat, but the engines flooded and the storm ripped apart masts and sails.

The ship was doomed. The vessel let out a final tortured groan as it sank on the evening of September 12, sucking souls down in a horrifying vortex. The loss in gold was so profound that it was one of the factors precipitating the Great Panic financial crisis of Finding the Central America would be no easy matter — proportionally it would be like finding a single grain of sand in the floor plan of a four-bedroom house.

The key, Thompson knew, was to undertake a logical and hyper-organized search. Bob Evans used every known detail about the fateful voyage, including passenger and crew accounts of the weather as the ship sank, and worked with a search theory expert to determine that the wreck was likely somewhere in a 1,square-mile grid miles southeast of Charleston, South Carolina, in part of the ocean that was nearly a mile and a half deep. Each square on the grid was assigned a number based on the likelihood that the ship had ended up there, and the idea was to trawl a sonar apparatus up and down the grid and take in-depth readings of the most promising results.

Obsessed with his work, Thompson was said to be indifferent to food and sleep, dressed in a thrift store suit and hair afrizz. As a result, the high-powered investors waiting in their upper-floor offices and elegant conference rooms were often skeptical of his bewildering presence. But time after time, Thompson would speak to them reasonably, thoroughly and intelligently. He was realistic about the low probability of success, outlined various contingencies, and emphasized that the mission offered the chance for the investors to participate in a journey of good old American discovery.

Investors soon found themselves chuckling in delight at the audacious fun of the project and the inspiring confidence they felt in Thompson. Wayne Ashby told the Columbus Dispatch in Thompson was the head of both. Under the aegis of these companies, Thompson outfitted a search vessel, put together a crew, and developed a seven-ton remotely operated vehicle capable of withstanding deep-ocean conditions.

They also conducted various other experiments useful to the recovery, such as purposely giving Evans the bends. As Gary Kinder writes in Ship of Gold in the Deep Blue Sea, the deepest an unmanned submersible had gone previous to this was 6, feet. That vehicle had been difficult to control, with only one arm that could perform rudimentary functions. The technology Thompson and his crew developed in secret streamlined and refined the submersible so that it was much easier to control and could perform the delicate tasks needed for the recovery of the ship.

It was one of their secret weapons, and the mission to find the Central America was officially launched in June The mission was subject to numerous difficulties: seasickness, short tempers, errant weather, malfunctioning equipment, little sleep, and a stretch of time when the only food served was fried chicken.

Investors groused about the delays, but Thompson always managed to assuage their fears. In late summer , the crew sent the submersible robot down to check out an overlooked blip on the search grid. The control room aboard the ship, with its walls of monitors and technology that made it look like an alien craft from an old movie, exploded with profoundly human joy. Gold and artifacts were brought to the surface starting in fall , the beginnings of a haul that would grow to include gold ingots, 7, gold coins, and, at 80 pounds, one of the largest single pieces of gold ever discovered and at the time the most valuable piece of currency in the world.

Wayne Ashby told the Dispatch when the discovery was announced. When asked by a reporter to estimate the value of the haul, Thompson demurred. The first haul of gold was taken from the ship straight into armored cars by guards carrying machine guns amidst cheering investors, well wishers, and descendants of the survivors of the Central America wreck.

But as it would turn out, that brief glimpse was the closest any investor would ever get to the treasure found at the bottom of the sea. I n , the Columbus-America Discovery Group had secured its right in admiralty court to excavate the Central America site and retain possession of whatever they discovered beneath the sea.

But this ruling was challenged almost as soon as Thompson set foot back on the shore. Thompson and his companies were sued by no less than separate entities, including 39 insurance companies that had insured the cargo on the original Central America voyage. Things got even more complex when an order of Capuchin monks sued Thompson, alleging he had copped the intel given to them by a professor from Columbia University whom they had commissioned to do a sonar search of the same area.

Recovery operations were suspended in because of the lawsuits, leaving the fate of the gold brought to the surface in legal limbo — and tons of gold still on the wreck at the bottom of the sea. The back-and-forth continued until and in the process established case law in admiralty court when Thompson and his companies were finally awarded Coupled with a significant devaluing of the rare coin market, a few investors wondered about the future of their investment. The pressure mounted as Thompson attempted to balance his obligations to his crew, his companies, and his investors while being a dad to his three kids.

He was right there, every time there was a hearing. He read every page of every brief, and a lot of times he was helping with the writing, too. Army, but this later proved to be a myth. Meetings with investors became less frequent, they said, as did updates and newsletters. Once lauded for his openness, Thompson appeared to go into a shell. Thompson said that his silence was necessary to protect trade secrets.

By , some of the investors were fed up with the way Recovery Limited Partnership was being run and made moves to establish another company, this time with the investors in charge. The companies were restructured, with the reworked Columbus Exploration as a partner company to Recovery Limited Partnership. Thompson was again the head of both entities, though it was stipulated that he would draw a salary only from the former and not the latter.

Much of it was sold to gold and coin dealers, and some of the treasure was displayed in a lavish traveling exhibit across the country, with Thompson sometimes making an appearance alongside his discovery. Thompson then allegedly told investors that they would not be seeing any of the proceeds, as all the money went to pay off the loans and legal fees that had accrued since the mission began.

Thompson took the coins without approval from the board, though his attorney Keith Golden maintains there was nothing clandestine about it. Nonetheless, in , two former investors filed lawsuits against Thompson for breach of contract and fiduciary duty: Donald Fanta, president of an investment firm, the Fanta Group, and the Dispatch Printing Company, owned by the family that ran The Columbus Dispatch. Dispatch scion John W. However, he died and his cousin John F. Convinced that Thompson was ripping him off, the cousin pushed the lawsuit ahead. Thompson was next sued by a group of nine sonar techs from the original mission who claimed they had been duped out of 2 percent of the profits from the gold, plus interest.

The two cases were combined with a third into a mega-lawsuit in federal court, creating a labyrinthine legal situation with a rotating cast of attorneys and thousands of motions and maneuvers that bewildered even seasoned courtroom players. Missions to the Central America were once again put on hold as Thompson put his mind to work filing legal briefs and appeals. Once having bragged of being the subject of more than 3, articles, Thompson had long since stopped talking to the press, and now spent half the year living in a Florida mansion rented under another name.

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Thompson began to show symptoms of the gilded affliction. In he was arrested in Jacksonville after a sheriff observed him hiding something under the seat following a routine traffic stop. In July , U. Organ had never actually met Thompson and claimed that he was out to sea. But Judge Sargus shook his head and declared bullshit. The two were presumed to be together and, some of the investors speculated, in possession of millions of dollars in cash and the gold coins. On top of the civil suits against him, Thompson was charged with criminal contempt of court, and U. Marshals were tasked with tracking down him down.

Marshal Brad Fleming told the Associated Press in the midst of the pursuit. Once the most successful treasure hunter in the world, Tommy Thompson was now the one being hunted. I n late summer , a handyman named James Kennedy walked up to the porch of Gracewood, a large home in Vero Beach, Florida. Kennedy took out his cell phone and pretended to call the landlord. I picked up my cell phone and I said it real loud. He had been a handyman for decades, but even he was taken aback by what he found inside. Thompson had been renting Gracewood since , a home away from the hassles in Columbus, and the mansion had become their home base when they fled Ohio two months earlier.

As renters, Thompson and Antekeier had always been friendly but maintained their distance, Brinkerhoff said. He searched for Thompson on the internet and learned that the tenants were wanted by U. Kennedy himself had once found a mammoth bone and was similarly besieged with people trying to take advantage of his find. So he called the Marshals.

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But by that point, Thompson and Antekeier had long since fled Gracewood, and law enforcement was once again unable to determine where they went. Marshal Brad Fleming said in an interview. Based on material found in the Pennwood cabin, the Marshals were alerted to the Hilton Boca Raton Suites, a banal upscale setting where the pair of fugitives had remained hidden since May 30, Marshals prepared to descend on the hotel.

Thompson was a brilliant mind and incredible strategist, but he was not suited for life on the run. One of the last times anyone had seen him, it was a worrisome sight: Thompson was in the backyard of a house he was renting, yelling into his phone in his underwear. Think more along the lines of Dilbert in charge of the operation. But what had to be one of the most intense disappointments in the saga, for Thompson, was the fact that the excavation of the Central America would carry on without him.

Kane in turn contracted a company called Odyssey Marine Exploration to finish the recovery of the Central America. The goal was to bring the rest of the gold to the surface and ensure that the investors got paid. Thompson has significant holdings in the U. If there are dollars that he is hiding, I want every penny of it. The renewed excavation launched in April , with U.

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Marshals putting a wanted poster of Thompson aboard the ship in case he attempted to rejoin the mission. The operation was quite successful, bringing up more than 45 gold bars, 15, coins, and hundreds of artifacts over the course of numerous dives, including a pair of glasses, a pistol, and a safe filled with packages. The sale of the gold was once again undertaken by the California Gold Marketing Group. O n January 27, , Thompson, then 62, was pale and sickly as he sat in his room in the Hilton Suites in Boca Raton, his body racked with the paranoid tics of a man on the run.

She took almost comically cinematic precautions when appearing in public, wearing big floppy hats and taking a succession of buses and taxis to lose anyone who might be on her tail. The hunt was led by an intimidating and extremely direct U. Marshal named Mike Stroh. He had been involved in manhunts all over the country, but the mission to find Thompson had special resonance with him as a professional person-finder.

After seven hours of following her, Marshals crashed their way into the hotel and surprised the two, screaming at them not to move. The Marshals would ultimately cart away 75 boxes of evidence from the room, but they came up empty-handed in one aspect of their quest. Investigators found boxes in the Gracewood mansion that looked a lot like those that had held the restrike coins, but the gold itself was nowhere to be found. Anna smiled as she absentmindedly rubbed her stomach. She was about three months along, and had just told the family and their co-workers last week.

John was right though, since breaking the news Mrs. Patmore had been feeding her non-stop. Anna had never been a voracious eater, but the past month she hadn't stopped eating, and her body had filled out a little bit, which seemed to please John. She smiled as a thought crossed her mind and she quickly walked into the sitting room, so she could listen for his key in the door. It had only been a few minutes when she heard him working the key in the lock so she quickly jumped up to stand in front of the door.

She tried to look seductive and assumed she just looked silly, but she didn't care. She just wanted to see her husband's face when he walked through the door. John turned the lock and entered the small hallway, a package in one hand and his cane in the other. He quickly closed the door behind him and then looked up.

He couldn't believe the vision in front of him. Anna was standing before him in only his shirt, which showed off her legs incredibly and her long blonde hair was down and tousled from her nap. Anna looked up biting her lower lip softly and tilting her head to the side and looked up at him, "Is that my chocolate cake?

John nodded as he reached for her, bringing her body into his, spreading his legs slightly to make room. He bent his head to place a soft kiss on the skin just below her ear, which he knew was particularly sensitive for her. John's eyes widened at her comment, although he shouldn't be surprised, if there was one thing he had learned about his wife it was that for as sweet and professional she was at work, she was a racy temptress at home behind closed doors.

He moved his lips from her neck to capture her lips in a slow deep kiss that left them both breathless. Anna reached for his hand. John looked at her a smile on his face. He squeezed her hand and led her into their sitting room sitting her down in front of him on the soft cushions before kneeling down on the floor, knowing he would be sorry later, but not caring at the moment. He placed both of his hands on her knees, pushing her back until she was flush against the back of the couch, he pulled one of her legs straight out, and starting from the foot began placing gentle kisses up her leg, and when he reached her upper thigh, he unbuttoned her shirt exposing her to his lustful gaze.

He placed several kisses on the inside of her upper thigh but stopped just short of the nest of curls and turned his attention to her other leg, giving it the same attention, once again stopping short. He looked up at Anna, and smiled at the vision of her, with her head thrown back and her mouth slightly open as she took long shallow breaths. He smiled up at her as his finger traced up her inner thigh, dipping into her center and finding her already ready for him. He gently rubbed his finger on the bundle of nerves at her core and Anna reared her hips up, letting out a quiet moan.

He did it a few more times, before stopping, causing Anna to frown slightly, which quickly turned into a soft smile and moan when his tongue replaced his finger. Anna moved her head from side to side, groaning in pleasure at the feelings coursing through her as John's tongue worked his magic. Just when she thought she was at the precipice, he would change the direction of his tongue and start the build once again.

Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes
Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes
Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes
Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes
Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes
Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes Pantsdown Abbey: Like Downtown, but with fewer clothes

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