She'ddelivered her little homily on individual conscience, one of herfather's, no doubt, even though she knew the advice she'd justgiven was useless. ...Parental voices had spoken, my aunt's and mymother's, and a parent's will be done. We couldn't ignore Donald-- we had to do something with him.Maureen was crouched in a corner painting her toenails, and hadn'tseemed to be listening. Pretty, dark-haired Maureen, always solidand decisive. She was our make-up artist -- she'd done Avon housecalls. Turning more toward him, I reached for a section of the paper and as I opened it up in front of me, I spread my legs just a little further giving him the slightest peak of my wet slit. Holding the paper up in front of my face, it allowed him to feel like if I couldn't see him and he could look. I could tell it was working because as I looked past the bottom of the paper at the front of his lounge pants, I could see the outline of his dick that was now obviously rock hard. Thinking that I wasn't. More

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