...The chimes of the downstairs clock struck twelve, ringing in the midnight hour with signature clarity. Etta's eyes fluttered at the sound as sleep slipped from her grasp. Carefully she untangled herself from Zia's naked arms and legs and extracted herself from the rumpled bedsheets. The servant girl murmured in her sleep and rolled over onto her back, never waking.
A sense of wonder dominated Etta's thoughts, savoring the incredibly fulfilling memory of her torrid adventure. Imagine — an entire fist and forearm stuffed into her p***y! Who would have thought such a thing was possible? She glanced down, her fingers exploring, expecting to find a wrecked cavern of her cunt. But the resilient flesh of her sweet p***y had snuggled back up, leaving only a tight little slit in which her dabbl
