CHAPTER THREE
When the shuddering blasts of orgasm began to die down in the twelve-year-old body of Mary McLean, she let her legs drop weakly to the floor. She was deeply ashamed of herself for having let all this happen, and she was ashamed to look at her cousin.
"Oh, Johnny," she moaned, covering her eyes and turning on her side, her lovely little rump invitingly shoved into the man's face, "I'm so terrible! How could I have done such a wicked, nasty thing? Oh, oh, ohhhhhhhh!"
The tall man was absorbed in this s****l fantasy, of quickly achieving total control of such a young beauty, of finding her so unbelievably hot and open for s*x, and still so naive. And her cunt, so fat and swollen from her heat, pouted mutely out at him from between her beautifully sculptured thighs.
"You're a
