He holds my cunt wide open with two fingers, stretches it as wide as it will go, asks about the inside, and then licks around the edge, finally findin... my clit. I tell him to slow down, let me control the speed, and I grip his head, pushing his face into my cunt, holding him there as my orgasm starts to build. He follows my instructions, and I reach my peak, squirting hard, several times. Afterwards, he asks about my squirting and I explain how a woman’s bladder voids in moments of extreme. Mrs Morgan by contrast was lovely, a tanned gym bunny who seemed to spend her life pottering around their house in tracksuit bottoms and tight t-shirts, much to my delight. One day I popped over to borrow one of John’s videos. John and his dad were was out, but Mrs Morgan was her usual happy bouncy self. “Come in, I think it’s in the VCR already” she said and turned on the television. The screen burst into life and there, in glorious technicolour, was Mrs Morgan, slurping away on an absolute. She gave the girl some clothes and took her to the police station. The girl was in hysterics. She was crying uncontrollably. She kept saying that HE was going to kill her. The woman assumed that the girl was talking about whoever had done this to her.*****?Samantha are you all right?? asked Mr. Davidson in a tone of voice that told her that he was seriously worried about her. He had noticed that she seemed to be a million miles away, and she kept muttering, ?He?s going to kill me. Please take. .. and Nicole, she’s always in control. We’re subs. We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Marten smirked as we kept driving toward the compound, which was very palatial, in fact.“This is even bigger than the one that I used to own. It’s a massive, customized complex, dwarfing most old antebellum plantations, in fact. It needs to be. We’re a church, after all, as well as a family. We have living quarters for a fuck-ton of folks, believe me. This is a lot like an ashram in some respects, less so in.