As she drew closer, the feeling of dread grew. Why was she so immaculate? Why was she so clean? There was not a spot on her, not a single fleck of sem...n, not a hair out of place -- at least, as far as I could tell, since her head was hidden under a shroud. A fucking shroud?? What was this, the sixteenth century? Who wears a shroud to a wedding? And why was no-one getting up to use her? Why was she allowed to walk towards the altar completely unspoiled? It wasn't respect for the sanctity of. Like she was begging to be fucked, it was short but not indecently black in color. He wondered if her panties matched the bra. Bruteally he sliced the skirt down the middle, and sucked in his breath sharply. They matched. Black lace panties encased, protecting her cunt from him. He could see she had little or no hair around her mound. She was a little slut he laughed to himself. "Is she pretty? What does her pussy look like?" John called from the drivers seat. "Just concentrate on. I was whimpering as the knot stretched my hole, pressing insistently and demandingly to gain entrance into my body. I sucked in air, held it in concentration and determination, equally applied to become tied to this wonderful male, once again. I sighed deeply, groaning out a measure of relief and pleasure at the same time as the knot made the final stretch of my pussy and plunged into me, filling me even more than before. Cock and knot. Both inside me, both now swelling more as he approached. I looked across the street. I saw this older lady standing in front of a telephone pole. She was trying to put up a flyer of some kind on the pole. I got up to get a better look. She looked familiar. I kept watching as this lady tried to hang her sign. I could not remember who she was. I decided to get closer. I walked across the street. I then walked up behind her. She was wearing some tan pants that hugged her nice big firm ass. She had long gray and silver hair that was tied up on her head..