Kyle now, very amiably, copied the method which Elizabeth, unthinking, had employed, eating the last bites of his lunch with his fingers, as unconcernedly as an intimate family member at a casual home-cooked meal. As the woman watched, entranced and breathless, her host finished his repast. The nattily dressed magician then pushed two digits deep into the dripping pink funnel that had held his refreshing lunch, and with his smelly fingertips he smoothed back the delicate folds of skin at the upper juncture of the girl’s vulva, and he began to tug idly at the swollen c******s of his cunt-bowl as if it were a slippery little grape.
“I, ah—” Kyle’s expressive, mobile lips quirked. “I hope you will not think me too rude, my dear Elizabeth,” he said in studied diffidence, “if I lick this bowl
