Surely she had a father, but who that might be was lost to memory. Even her mother, who served in the Priest's household as cook and scullery maid, co...ld not remember who of the many passing stable boys and draymen might have sired the girl fourteen years ago. Obviously the God, of whom the master of this house piously claimed to be an humble servant, possessed a cynical humour to place a child so rare in beauty and disposition so slightly above the class of the basest born. Little in life was. He felt the movement and moved his fingers over to investigate. As his rough fingers slid over the soft skin of my breasts, they gradually became more confident. What began as shy rubbing turned to a firm grip around my entire breast and even some lifting and jiggling, like he was testing the weight.“Holy cow, they feel amazing,” he said. For some reason his groping was actually arousing me. It felt good. Usually when a stranger is fondling my breasts it’s a means to an end, just part of the. More

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