No doubt about it. Hanging from his chest, moving up and down with everyinhale and exhale he took, was a pair of breasts. And not just anybreasts; the... were huge, round, impossibly perky, and jiggled withalmost any movement. They were the kind that would catch the attentionof every straight male and more than a few females in a room. The kindthat would never be called breasts or boobs; they were melons, funbags,hooters or most commonly, "Jesus, look at those tits!" As if that wasn'tenough, he. "I have a contact in Milan. He could certainly help if we have incontrovertible proof that Rheinmann is buying trafficked women." I could tell you all you'd need to know," Wilson added, "if you put in a good word for me with the prosecution." Hmm."Angela made a final plea. "The Baron must know a lot more than anyone else if he's taken four girls. If we can get to him, then he could implicate Hunnicutt and then get him to reveal the location of all the kidnapped girls. This is what we're trying. She was definitely tighter, too. I groaned as I slid into her snatch. Allie squeezed and kneaded my rump as I pushed further and further into her friend’s twat.“Oh, Jenny!” Mrs. Greene moaned. “You’re fucking my daughter now?”“Yep!” I gasped. “Your pussy cream is on my dick sliding into her twat. Isn’t that hot?”“Oh, you are such a wicked creature. You’ve so thoroughly corrupted me.”“She had help, Mom!” Kathy moaned. “I corrupted Allie with all my naughty stories, and that made her so hot and. They were decorated in different styles and nicely landscaped. But unlike most gardens where such places were quiet retreats to think or read, these were retreats into darkness.Willow was kneeling on a marble bench. She was not bound but was wearing a head harness with a penis gag. Page had given her very specific instructions about how she was to comport herself. Willow was not to get off the bench or make a sound unless she felt Page was in physical danger of harm or death. She was to watch.