Thenmore hands were upon me and the bag that was my prison was being unzipped.Thanks to the blindfold and the hood, I could see nothing, but immediate...ythe voices were clear. The voices of women: my mother and another person,a stranger."How old is he?"The voice was hard, cool and foreign. "Eighteen."My mother's voice, calm, indifferent."He looks younger." He's a little under-developed. Naturally...petite." Yes, I can see that. But that will help us. There is already a distinctfemininity." The. My hands again explore your body. Quickly, I strip off my clothing. I stand behind you and as our bare skin touches we feel an electric charge. I grasp you and pull you back towards me and sit back in the chair with you in my lap. My hands move like lightning, here there everywhere. They stroke your neck and breasts and finally fingers find your pussy.Circle ling around your clit. Your wetness starts to flow and my fingers enter you.My cock is getting so hard it hurts. I lift you upwards and. Beads of sweat dotted his upper lip. And if he let go of the side rail he’d probably play patty cake with the floor. But at least he was upright. “I’m busting out,” he panted. “This place gives me the creeps.” Moe hated the weak, breathy sound of his voice. Mona Dale’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, really? How far do you think you’ll get before those stitches pop and you lose what little blood you have left?” “Far enough to get a good meal. A man’s last meal shouldn’t be carrots he sipped through a. The soft warmth of a female was nice but in the end I was left longing for that first taste of a man. I wanted to feel the pleasures of the flesh I was providing. I wanted to be the one to lean over and unzip a pair of jeans to discover an erect cock in need of my hands, my lips, my body.I never got his name but this guy was speaking to me in ways that did not immediately raise red flags. He even sent a picture of his face. He was smiling! It was the moment I’d been waiting for. I was sober and.