Was she a virgin pictures of rape also?
Briefly I looked up forced sex at her.
She ate submissively, as I pictures of rape did.
Yet, did I sense a certain raping pride in her manner?
She twirled her spaghetti on her pictures of rape fork and lifted it to her lips, her soft, full breasts jostling one another as she moved.
All eyes at the table were on us.
Proudly I lifted my fork to my own mouth, feeling my own breasts move as I did.
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I did not wish to be seen like this by everyone, just by the special few, the chosen.
The gentlemen had a satisfied air pictures of rape about them, like two cats admiring captured canaries.
We were all bottom, it seemed, with our smooth bellies offering themselves up as vacant wombs, ready to be filled and bloated our breasts were but udders on which future infants might suck, our pussies so mysteriously dipping into our legs, where their unseen cleft provided entrance to the burrowing male.
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