Electric. My tongue flicked out, batting one of her nipple piercings. If flicked up and over her nipple, twisting through her nub. Her face writhed wi...h pleasure. She whimpered, squirming.The tattoo artist chuckled as he flipped up my skirt. Then I gasped as he ripped my panties away. The fabric tore with ease, but I didn’t care. I spread my legs as I licked my daughter’s piercing again. I played with that ring, loving how it would dazzle upon her.“Mom,” she whimpered.The tattoo artist’s cock. In the hours since the sun had faded far, into the distant west, the temperature, had declined a good fifteen degrees, if not more. Not even the most hardy souls seemed eager, to venture out into the icy evening, rendering the streets borderline barren, save an occasional drunk aimlessly stumbling out on a desperate mission, to seek out renewed means of intoxication. Sweet amnesia in a bottle, a great many called it, those that were willing to admit that drinking served as their only true means. More

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