Halfway through a shared dessert I would send her to the bathroom. Panties off this time first playing with her pussy through them. When she go back s...e would hand me the tiny panties, wet from her pussy, so I could breathe her sweet scent in.Then we’d go to the casino, sit at the bar and she would sit with her legs apart showing her pussy “accidentally “ to any men around at tables. She got a lot of looks but with me there no advances. I would be rubbing her leg and cop a feel or finger her. 'What was a Khan?'It was starting to get dark when a servant came into the room. She watched him through the veil as he lit a fire and candles, then placed a meal on the desk. She tried to call to him, but her voice was quiet and slurred and he ignored her presence, quickly leaving. The meal smelled delicious and she was still hungry but it was far out of her reach. A group of men came into the tent, each in the same dress, but with one clearly more ornate armour that the others. The men took. Her private confessor, the shy and withdrawn Father Reilly, found her insistence on self- punishment a bit “over the top” in secular terms, but he allowed her to show him her bruises and marks of penitence even when they were in an embarrassingly private spot usually not displayed for male observation. Her flushed face and rapid breathing concerned him at such times, but he put it down to mortification at her sinful deeds.His flesh was just as weak as some of the younger nuns and his need for. I hated my ex-girlfriend sometimes. Like, really. She had just gotten up in front of the whole class and embarrassed the fuck out of me with some over-emotional poem. God, the silence in the classroom was excruciating. Luella walked back to her seat slowly, while the awkward atmosphere bit into me. The teacher was staring at me somewhat accusingly, and then shook her head and continued with the class. I hated english for this very reason – creativeness led to our personal, hormone-filled.