Her eyes, dark brown glowed with intelligence and yet confusion of youth. Reverend Wilson could see the outline of a matronly brassiere cupping those ...ucculent globes. They were large like her mother's but firmer, he mused. Her torso dipped into a trim waist cinched tight with a belt then flared into hips that would hold him comfortably when her completed her baptismal preparation. Her legs were firm and shapely, her knees, pressed so firmly together that he wondered how he would get them. ."Oooooh..." she cooed.I got wetter. And less nervous. Did she know I could hear her? And could she hear me? I didn't care anymore. I started up again, slowly, by tapping my clit with my index finger while my middle and ring finger were still deep inside. I could her her wetness rhythmically pulsing next to me. I tried to time my strokes with hers, beckoning a "come here" motion inside of me, as if I was inviting something mysterious to come out of me. Something...forbidden...She went. More

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