"You're a rebel," she said. It was not a question, but I nodded."My husband was not. Didn't hold with war at all, with killing."I told her my name and...she said hers was Fran. "Francine actually," she said with a small laugh. "My mother rather favored the French. A Huguenot her father or grandfather was, I've forgotten which."We stood awkwardly in her back room. The house was quiet, and I assumed we were alone. She might have been twenty-five, perhaps even thirty, with a fine forehead, strong. Then hed blow cold air on the wet spot so my nipple puckered again and I let out a hum. All of this made me even wetter than before. I didnt notice that I had started moving my hips back and forth on his dick until I felt his smile stretch under his mask. See? You do like this. He said, taunting me. I got so angry that he knew…and was laughing at me! I snapped my head away-pouting. In a matter of seconds his hand found my hair again-pulling my head so our foreheads touched-his other arm. More

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