And as it pressed against her sex, widening it and finally slipping inside her, she realized that is was a sphere of some kind. She was La Princesa, shaped only for destruction. Soft clingy dresses that molded around the thighs when they walked and swished with the movement of their hips. She stared up at him with tears pouring down her face. She wore no brassiere. And her instinct told her that is was his cock. He had on a pair of white cutoffs, with an incredibly big bulge behind the zipper. I'll kill you. And then she felt his hands gently grip her upper arms, raising her up, first to her knees, then to her feet, and guiding her in trembling steps across the room. He stared awhile at her slim frame. |