Blabbedy-blab-blab, stroke, swirl, caress, blabbedy-blab-blab, flick, dip, thrust, and pretty soon all I could really hear was the yummy squelching of...my sodden-cuntedness. So it was a bit of a shock when Headmaster Crotchety's wrinkled, hairy, man-hand slapped hard against my gorgeously, squidgy, rounded, botty-cheek. What the actual fuck? And again on my other, perfectly innocent, cheek of wiggle-flesh. And then he pushed me out of the room, hand smacking at my exposed buttocks, driving me. Weed sewed the skirt for Rebecca. Mid-August in Athens, however, was scarcely the place to be wearing wool.She looked around as she descended the steps from the airplane, half expecting Wesley to be waiting for her. Or perhaps Ryan McGuire. Her visualizations on the airplane from Rome were mixed. She chanted a spell Mrs. Weed had taught her to put herself into a visualizing trance and settled in to focus on her husband. But images of Ryan kept intruding on her subconscious. The men were locked. More

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