I tell her, sure, have Sandy bring it over; I’m at the shop anyhow. I’m working on the race-car, when I hear a car pull up behind me. I assume it�...�s Sandy since she is the only one that is coming by. I’m under the race-car tinkering with some things and go to slide out. The first thing my eyes land on is this pair of legs covered in transparent red stockings, with gold thread running through them in a fishnet pattern. As I slide further out, my eyes naturally roam up those legs until I’m staring. Though both me and my brother remained in human form through the ritual and had no desire to transform. Though I soon noticed there was another difference in this ritual--Neither of the two of us stopped raping our bitches once we had orgasms. We just let our semen flow into the bitches' wombs before we started raping them some more. In fact we would have three more orgasms before we would be able to pull our cocks from each bitch's pussy. Though at that point we were certain both bitches. Telling scary stories around a campfire with friends, or simply reading books about ghosts and paranormal experiences, it quickly became his life. One myth in particular always piqued his interest. It was the story of a ghostly lover, who would appear floating through a window in sheer white robes, slowly killing its victim with passion and desire. The eroticism always got to him, and many nights he lay in bed, with the window open, hoping against hope, that one night, this lovely vision would. I grabbed some Vaseline and rubbed it all over his dick. I made sure to caress it just the way he likes while biting his chest and scratching his shoulders and back. I didn’t care about easing her comfort, I wanted it to be comfortable for him. I handed him the whip and told him I wanted to see him really use it. I wanted to see him hurt her. I didn’t want him to cum until she was in so much pain. I got behind him and had him bend over her so that he was on his hands and knees. I reached.