Her thick thighs and heart shaped ass were still at the dawn of a losing battle with age and cellulite. Her regular jogging helped her stay in decent ...hape and kept her body as firm as possible. She was proud of the gracious way in which she was aging, and refused to conceal the silver streaks in her auburn hair. And why shouldn’t she be so proud? After all her husband of 18 years loved her just the way she was. The sex was great, and they still enjoyed the occasional evening in, together alone. It was fantastic. It was one of the best Halloween costumes I have ever seen. But who in the hell wears that kind of a costume to a party!? That's a contest costume, not a party costume!Come on, you can't dance. You can't eat. People can't really interact with you. Hell, with that voice changer you had under the face gauze, people couldn't even tell if you were a woman or a man. The only person who would ever wear something like that to a party would be.... Me! ... or someone just like me who. She felt his and her fingers deep inside her, her muscles pulsing around them all on their own. Her minister was her guide, her advisor, and the leader of the Church she was becoming a member of. She had learned to trust him but she was afraid to open her eyes as his voice washed over her like a warm, soothing shower. Afraid that if she did, she would discover that something was wrong... sinful. She couldn't understand why she felt that way. Snippets of earlier teachings nagged at the back of. With her coffle-rod, Jessica pulled the lead down from the first unit and attached it to the ring in the front of Angie’s collar. This coffle-train ran on a different route than the other, and when it was fully loaded with freshly collared and tattooed slaves, it would lead them to the distribution area, where they would be kenneled until the semi came to load them up for unknown destinations. Behind her, Angie heard, Melissa prepping the Chair for Tina: inserting new blanks, a new cartridge.