“Oh god please; oh please make me cum, Caitlin,” pleads Megan. “From now on you will address me as Miss Caitlin – in my presence or not; at al... times – understand?” says Caitlin authoritatively . “Yes Miss Caitlin; please make me cum!” whimpers Megan, her hips starting to buck as her pussy is being licked constantly by Caitlin’s expert tongue. “Not yet. You do not have my permission to cum,” replies Caitlin, making Megan whimper as her tongue teases her captive’s pussy lips, making her. God, I could hear my parents now, “Marissa what were you thinking?!” That horrified look. And that would just be if they heard about booze or drugs. God knows what they would say if they knew. . . . if they knew their perfect daughter was now damaged goods. Not that you would know it looking at any of us. My mother was Italian and my father was French. I was 5 foot 1, more leg than torso, and fair skinned but kept up a steady diet of spray tanning. I had been lucky with acne, and rarely. More

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