Was the other my mother?I came on their faces. They lick each other clean. How could that have happened?“Because I'll always be your sex slave, Mast...r. Always” echoed through my mind. Who was this green-eyed girl? Her face was almost indistinct, hazy in my thoughts.There was a Black girl who brought her mother to me to fuck. Why would she do that?I had memories the entire gymnasium full of girls writhing in lesbian passion, licking each other. It was a strange, though hot, fragment.What was up. My dark skirt reached almost to my knee--short, yet still professional. The matching jacket was much more stylish than the jacket to my worksuit--tapered in where it buttoned at my cinched waist, yet emphasizingmy "breasts". If I was daring enough, I could have gotten away with asexy camisole or a soft, white suiting tee underneath my jacket, butinstead Lisa selected a white, very soft blouse with cute French cuffsand a classy open collar that was designed to spread over the lapels ofmy. I still needed to set up the old farm house for the initial training. It really wasn't a farm, but it was a nice house built out in the woods by my grandparents. It was still quite rural, the nearest neighbor being close to a mile away, and was in the middle of an 18 acre plot. It afforded all sorts of privacy, and since I maintained such an inconsistent schedule between the house in town and the farm house, the neighbors learned not to visit.I decided to take a shower and get dressed before. " You're braver than I am," Beth confessed. The cute brunette added, "Mind you, if Bobby were to be there I could do it. But he'd have to be beside me before I'd dare to."A sixteen year old boy at the table immediately behind Beth stopped eating, his sandwich hovering midway between tabletop and mouth and his eyebrows hovering midway between his ocular ridge and the orbit of the International Space Station. Because he was sitting immediately behind Beth, she couldn't see him, nor could he see.