“Since we’re all up, I’m going to make french toast. Bacon or sausages?”“Bacon,” beamed Zoë.“And?” I went for the Hail Mary.“Alrigh...,” Mom smiled and closed the door again. “The table will be set at seven. Your father does not promise bacon safety.”We waited a moment even after hearing Mom’s footsteps travel away from my door. I was sitting up on my bed now. Zoë had scurried up and leaned back against my headboard. She looked to me. I spoke first.“You ever try thinking about Mom and Dad. My abdominals were contracting with every spasm from my pussy. My mouth was wide open but somehow I refrained from vocally matching the explosions going off inside my dripping cunt. Once I came down from my orgasm, Michael told me to sit up onto my elbows. He seemed to look at me like a meal he was about to devour. He had a smirk on his face that just exuded confidence and control. “Your cunt still tastes sweet,” he said. “Finger yourself for me.” As my hand touched my clit I realized that I. More

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