“Yes, you like that, don’t you?” the big woman teased her. Demonstratively she pulled at the girl’s lengthened n*****s, remorselessly. “Ah, how I could make you beg…”
Rachel’s nostrils flared. Her face was warm. The fur beneath her belly burned, wet and smelly in the close confines of the expensive sedan. Her eyelids felt heavy and flushed, and she wondered vaguely, hopelessly, if this sweet torture would be enough to give her an orgasm… Oh, sometimes she had done it like this herself, both hands wild on her sensitive n*****s as she ground her thighs ecstatically together, rolling breathless in sweaty sheets, flexing, squeezing, grinding, on and on and on, until—
“Does this make you want to masturbate?” Mrs. McEvers asked curiously, her voice suddenly matter-of-fact in Rachel’s blood-wa
