The maid is stroking her clit vigorously again, and I can hear her labored breathing. She is close enough to me that I can feel her body heat without...actually touching her. A quiet moan escapes her lips, and she unbuttons her uniform far enough down to release her breasts, and she pinches one of her nipples as well. I can sense that she imagines that she is me. I am quickly returned to the moment by Eric's aggressive thrusting into my virgin tight pussy. I fit him like a glove, my pussy. Four small children were playing in one corner: a reprimand from their mother dampened their glee. Niccólo was a dark haired man in his mid forties wearing a ragged alb, chausible and stole over his peasant shirt and trousers, his son Boetio was dressed likewise and younger son Silvestro, wearing only an alb, held the missal ready to begin the Mass. Abbot Agostino took his place, and the twenty year old Boetio, a mirror of his father, began: ‘In nomine Patris, et Filiis, et Spiritui Sanctis. .. More

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