The preacher’s wife started playing the wedding march on the old church piano and Margaret found herself being dragged forward. It took her a momen... to match her father’s steps, a difficult task considering her reduced mobility. Though she couldn’t make out the crowd as more than ghostly silhouettes, she could still overhear their remarks as she was hauled towards the altar. Most of it amounted to ?This is just what that bratty little girl needs. You’ll see. This will fix her right up!? . Massaging her one breast, I flick my tongue against her nipple, and I feel her thighs squirm against each other, u*********sly thrusting up towards the ceiling.Sucking her breast deep into my mouth, I move my hand down to massage her pussy through her pale pink g-string. In her sleep, she is already wet, and I slide her underwear aside to massage her moist lips and her already-hard clit.She gasped and her pale, thin legs parted wider, so I silently moved down to align my mouth with her already. More

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