The feeling is quite nice, but my pussy starts to itch as if irritated by my salty sweat. First she kisses my big sultanas with the respect of a real...connoisseur, but then she sucks and bites them with vigour until my knees are getting weak. I have to take a deep breath as one of her hands glides over my belly and into the shorts. She massages the soft mound of my sex and curls the hidden hair around her fingers. She strokes over the hood of my clit and probes into the moist and itchy cleft. I knew that, like Rhonda, she would never consider abortion. If she killed the baby, it would be because she killed herself.I took her phone from her hand and deleted the picture. She smiled at me. It was apparently something she simply hadn’t had the strength to do.“I’m out of my depth, sweetheart.” It was Sunday morning, the last day of September. I was baking bread just for the family in our own kitchen this morning. I thought I’d fry dough. Joanne had gone back for a second counseling. More

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