"I want you so badly that my pussy has dripped down my thighs and left a trail right up your leg. Can you feel my wetness right over your cock? That's...your fault, and I expect you to fuck me senseless for it. Can you do that? Can you fuck me deep and hard and make me your fat little cum-slut?"I have your shaft between my pussy lips now, sliding up and down you in a rhythmic dance, mashing my clit against your shaved smoothness, coating you in my juices. My scent is rising in the air and hanging. She just needed a few years of this and she'd be independently wealthy. She hoped that both her father and Deacon Ramsay would get out of this OK but especially she hoped for Deacon Ramsay. She was glad the police didn't know about her business because then they'd have made her testify and she couldn't lie. She'd apparently been raped, statutorily, and the Deacon had definitely been responsible for her becoming a ... a courtesan. She so preferred that word to the others they used to describe. More

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