Phillip was sliding into her, pushing into her body. He was fucking her.Growing up, Elizabeth’s father had been absent more than he was present, an... she had the most wonderful memories of him. Guiltily, she remebered fantasies she used to have, back when she was even younger than Claire, when she first learned to masturbate. When she would imagine that it was her handsome father fucking her. If he hadn’t died, Elizabeth wondered if she would have been doing exactly what she saw her own. The beat of her heart pounded in her temples. She forced herself to breathe. Then she reached for Angique's hand to guide her.There was the familiar creaking of the main door; the clicking of heels on cool marble. Then she noticed the one-sided glow of the fireplace. She felt warm lips touching her throat and a voice whispering, "stop." She stopped, waiting. Hands started taking off her clothes — the torn blouse, the skirt. Fingers carefully rolled down her stockings. Her tits spilled out of. More

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