She placed her hands on to my shoulders and peered straight into my eyes, as she slowly gyrated her hips on my lap.“I’m not wearing any underwear,...�� she whispered as she peered straight into my eyes.“Are you on the pill?” I asked.“Yes,” she replied, as she shifted back and forth on my lap. She grabbed my hands and slipped them up under her very tight shirt and on to her soft sides. Her hardened nipples pushed against the cotton fibers of her t-shirt, on which the word “Sexy” was emblazoned. "In fact, I think they grow every time I mutilate them." I think they like it," Tanya whispered. "I know I do..." She didn't tell him that she routinely teleported fat cells, a few cubic centimeters at a time, from her buttocks to her breasts, especially when she was alone and feeling neglected, which (she considered) happened a lot despite Frank's seemingly constant attention. She just needed to be used. Constantly. If she wasn't being fucked, she wanted to be. If she was, she wanted to be. More

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