“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Ivy understands. I mean after all, only I have the magic touch on her.” He smooths her blonde hair back from h...r face and leans in to give her a soft kiss, tasting his lover’s cum on her breath.“If only,” Ivy says, now transformed back into her normal self. She doesn’t look much different this way. Her stark white hair contrasts to her brown skin, her breasts seeming much larger to her normally smaller frame. “You only think you have a magic touch.”“It seems to. It had to do with masturbation. I grew up in a Baptist church. My parents and I went nearly every Sunday. One Sunday, while I was setting with another group of boys my age in Youth Sunday School, the pastor came in. The Sunday School teacher had apparently known he was going to drop in. The pastor gave us boys a stern warning about the 'sin' of touching ourselves (meaning, masturbation). As young boys, the very mention of such a thing caused an automatic nervous reaction, because, as the pastor. ” So I began again to gamahuche her; this time it took a longer effort to produce the ultimate result; but apparently with still greater effect, and a more copious discharge. Her little cunt being now relaxed, and well moistened with her own discharge and my saliva, and well inclined to receive my prick, I spat upon it and lubricated it from head to root. Then rising from my knees, I stretched myself over Mary’s belly, and gently directing my prick, and rubbing it up and down first between the. It took her several minutes to calm down before she lay back down, hugging her pillow tightly, but her eyes remained open. She still had several more hours before morning where she could get up and be alone. It was almost morning by the time she had given way to sleep but when she heard the door shut, she was again awake. She let out a deep sigh and then got out of bed and after showering, she quickly threw on a pair of jeans and sweater and went to make coffee. Robert, her boss, was coming.