As she did, she slid her left arm carefully underneath, reaching all the way around until she could grip the big beautiful left breast. Softly she mas...aged it, reveling as always in its incredible luscious fullness. Letting her chin rest on the right shoulder, she paused a moment to inhale the sweet scent of her hair, then inched her mouth closer to the ear. “Aly,” she whispered. No response. “Aly. It’s morning. Wake up.” Still asleep. Smiling to herself again, Ashley continued the soft. I groaned, the pleasure increasing in me, the pressure growing.“That’s it,” I panted. “That’s how you fuck a futa’s cock, you naughty schoolgirl-slut. Oh, yes, you cum so hard on it. Your pussy’s just aching for my cum.”“Yes, she needs to spill in you,” Chandra said, sounding so happy for her daughter. “You’re doing so good, dear.”“Thank you, Mother,” Sita moaned, trembling.I rubbed harder at her clit, making her squeal again into my daughter. Belinda’s blue eyes widened. Then she fell backward. Christy was born again and I assumed that abstinence and piety came with the package. She would often talk about her relationship with HIM. I made the mistake of playfully suggesting that HE might be a SHE. "HIM" she said, "It's HIM". I wasn't about to disagree with her or compete with HIM for her affection. After all, millions of women cry out HIS name in the heat of the moment every day. HE must be amazing in the sack.I found her religious outlook quirky and comforting. She was always quoting. . The dark chamber, the torture room... A black thing in the corner, what was that? Had she truly seen it the night before...? Just opposite the guillotine, and even more gruesome... Unlit, in the farthest corner not touched by any torch, it had stood. A black bulky coffin... Dream-vision and memory diffused, she wasn’t sure about her powers of recollection. Now she remembered she had had quite a series of disturbed dreams this morning, featuring her Master and the infamous chamber... Well, no.