The brush did as well as I could manage, but the odd ant still remained when I led her to the veranda, dropping the cool silky dress down over the now...violated body. I led her through to the dungeon were we carefully removed the dress throwing a rope over the central beam I soon had her secured then swept her body down again paying of course special attention to her still infested clefts, over some old newspaper which was soon back outside returning the more adventurous to the hill. Her. Her four hundredth Midsummer was at hand. Yet, it was to be her last. She was to be sacrificed, so that her people could continue to prosper, to thrive. With the exception of the nearby stream and the very subtle rustle of the leaves of the ancient tree, all was absolutely silent. Even the young ones did not stir, did not cry, did not attempt to run and play. Every one of them knew instinctively that their future rested in her demise. A tear fell from my left eye, yet I could not bring. His tongue swirled all over my clit which protruded about the size of my pebble hard nipples. His tongue went slow, fast, slow along the folds, darted in and out, swirled, flicked, dipped, then his fingers came in to play. Oh, my god, the pleasure. He used them everywhere. His right hand worked on my clit, his left hand my vagina, his tongue all around, licked, sucked, even nibbled the whole pussy. At this point, I moaned and writhed with pleasure. He kept up at it, not really saying a. Jane talks on about it being fine with her, and it’s just normal.'They're all adults and obviously having a great time, don't you think? I can't see why they shouldn't enjoy each other, can you?' Jane asksAll the time Jane knows that Yvette is becoming oblivious to her. Yvette is engrossed in the pictures showing all three enjoying each other's bodies, lost in sexual congress with each other, in every way possible. ‘This woman is showing me pictures of her son’s cock impaled in women’s mouths.