A way to bind ourselves tightly together in a struggle for our own individual selves. A fight we could only make together.”“That kind of makes sen...e. Your mom was worse than my dad in many ways. He never treated me like your mom treated you. He was strict, and thought he could control my body, but he was never, ever mean to me. Neither was Pastor Kent, at least until he found out about us. Even then, it wasn’t mean. The first time I felt that he was mean was at my dad’s funeral when he said. Lauren reached down, wrapping his head in her dress, guiding him away from her vagina and towards her thigh. His face slid against her, saliva and cum mixing over her silky tanned skin. He nibbled her, darting occasionally back to her labia, flicking at her as he planted delicate kisses. Lauren regained her senses, her heat pounding, leg muscles taut and complaining. She looked down and smiled to herself at the almost comical sight of a pair of trousers and two feet protruding between her. More

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