Those conversations that had taken place at family Christmases went frombeing reported to being remembered. It was very much like thesensation that ...dult children sometimes have: having heard stories toldso many times within a family, they are no longer sure whether theyremember the event itself or the reporting of it.The remaining few days the four friends, for by now they were friends,were able to enjoy their Tuscan holiday. The olive trees and thevineyards were ripe with fruit and the. There was another envelope. I started to shake just from seeing it. I checked it throughly: no return address; no indication of who sent it.I looked at the photo first. It was me again, of course. I was on my hands and knees with an unidentifiable man fucking me doggy style. I remember when Warren made that one. He sat the camera so I facing right into the lenses. I was in obvious ecstacy.The letter read: "Hannah: My, my. You *are* a horny little slut, aren't you? Like those big cocks in your. The 'Princess' was to be stripped of her royal title and placed in the care of a certain very secure Nunnery until her child, the new heir to the throne, was delivered. The child was to be brought to the castle for nurturing while the mother was to remain in isolation in exile.It was left unsaid, but very clearly insinuated that the former Princess would never be returning again to this castle. Her fate determined, a pair of guards came to take her and all too soon she was gone, and without. My looks of embarrassment were through my real feelings of emotion towards Dale not through the 'he was so bad I don't even want to talk about it' ones, Danny's face changed from surprise to envy. "How was Emily?" I attempted to change the subject. "She was good, very horny, didn't take much to make her climax," Danny said proudly. "She had been talking about wanting a fuck, so I'm not surprised, where did you cum?" "In her mouth, she gives quality blow jobs," Danny smirked "Maybe even.