Lillian looks absurd with her panties lodged between her pussy lips. Her tits look double-scooped ice-cream cones pushing through the holes cut in her...bra. Maybelline great lash mascara stains her cheeks and her cries turn her face red. She lifts one leg to hide her shame and tries again to turn around, to hide, but I won’t let her. The humiliation and terror nearly overwhelms her. John has the scissors in hand and he slides them up the front of Lillian’s sweater. Snip snip. She can’t bear to. When Nicholas stepped further into the bedroom, I moved to close the door behind him, turning to lean my back against it, trapping him. He turned, a confused grin curling his perfect mouth upward. I suppressed the urge to lick my lips, feeling like I could devour him right then and there. He lifted a brow. "Lessa?" He asked, bemused. "I have to be honest with you, Neeko," I said. "I really don't need your help getting my husband's shit together." Sureness showed in his. More

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