A hand snaked through my locks, playing with them. Slowly the hand wiggled lower, tracing my features. My forehead, my nose, my lips, and then it traced down my neck.
The hand daringly cupped my heavy breast. I moaned, thrusting my breasts upwards. In approval of my actions, the hand squeezed them lightly.
After playing with both my breasts, the hand traveled down south, over my stomach, and slid under the cotton panties I was wearing.
I moaned in delight as two fingers slid into my hungry hole. The finger sensually and slowly f****d me, gently stroking my inner walls.
I groaned lowly in my throat.
“Mr. Wolf,” I moaned.
The scene suddenly changed. I was standing behind a passage that leads to nowhere. I stood there, not moving; as if I was waiting for something.
Many people pa
