.. or at least part of me was.We keep a small bottle of massage oil on the headboard, within easy reach. I sleep on his left, but I'm right-handed, so...a little clumsily with my left hand, I retrieved the bottle, flipped the top and poured a healthy amount onto his head and shaft. Setting the bottle back, I used my left hand to spread the oil and slowly stroke him, simulating a tight pussy as best I could.In those early years, I hadn't quite gotten used to stroking him left-handed. It wasn't as. And both acted like her presence made no difference to their routine, at all.She found herself seething. If she had been in the hands of another Claude, she could have dealt with it. She would have found a way out, again. At least she would have known where she stood- and so would he.But these boys thought of her as little more than a slightly advanced robot. Renee ground her teeth together, bitterly aware that lashing out at them would only make her situation worse. Despite the fact that their. More

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