?’ Gwen asked. ‘Pretty good,’ she said, ‘we won again, 3-1.’ ‘Didja score?’ ‘Yeah, peanut, 2 goals, one assist.’ ‘Yay!’ Gwen yel...ed, raising her little arms above her head. Her mother smiled. M.J. went to the kitchen and took the plate of cold chicken and frozen peas that her mother left for her, sat down at the table and ate it without much enthusiasm. M.J. generally considered food nothing more that fuel necessary to maintain her physical activity, probably because her mother was not a good. Rocking slowly forward and backward, maintaining the pressure, the fingers brushed over her swollen clit and against the entrance to her dark tunnel. She wanted to raise her hips to increase the pressure but she managed to resist the urge. A finger, then a second, slipped inside. In and out, in and out, they massaged her G-spot. But, as her pleasure built, they were suddenly withdrawn and briefly turned to stroking her clit before sliding round to her puckered arsehole. Back and forth, clit to. More

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