‘My mother’s people bragged that they could hold up the sky forever on the tips of their arrows. Now the sky has fallen and the dead are meat for the vultures!’ Though a Mongol herself, Fatima was not part of the Kara-Khitan clan and had no wish to waste her life pointlessly. She reined her horse and went away through the copse of trees. The woman had come this way not to witness history, but rather because she was on a mission assigned to her by her own queen. However, even as she emerged out onto the rocky hillside she saw a prize that no Tartar could refuse. Red eyed and racing in a lather, a tall steppe horse sped by in a cloud of dust. Fatima spurred forward quickly, hoping to catch the flapping reins. Finally, having caught the high-strung warhorse, she trotted swiftly down the slope with her prize, away from the silence and stink of the battlefield. Suddenly she stopped among a clump of stumps and burrs. Right in front of her Fatima beheld a small pack of men retreating. A. Lauren hugged him again, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips. He lifted her off the floor, and held her up as he gave her a long, lingering open mouthed kiss. Finally he put her back on her feet. Now go on and get you a quick shower in my bathroom, baby girl, he told her. You need to get back to your room before your mom gets up. Lauren smiled and ran off to get her shower, came back a few minutes later and grabbed her panties and nightshirt, gave Grampa another hug, and scampered off down the hall to her own room. Grampa watched from his doorway as Lauren went down the hall and disappeared, still bare ass naked, and turned to go back in his room and close the door. A movement on the stairway caught his eye, and his daughter, Zoe, stepped out of the shadows. Was she good? Zoe asked, her voice very even, not a hint of anger. She was excellent, Grampa replied, motioning her into his room. Very tasty, and a nice fuck as well, he told her. Zoe wore a flimsy nightie with no.
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