This nameless, reckless, over-trusting, and completely absurd, drunk, band-shirt girl. It was summer, and was pretty warm in my apartment, so I had dr...ped a light sheet over her. Half for her, half for me. From here I could see the curves of her body shape resting just beneath the sheet, and she wouldn’t freeze to death in here, so I did my part.I dropped myself into my curved gamer chair, the kind that sits on the floor, looking around at the dirty clothes, unwashed dishes, and overfilled. As an eleven year old girl, she was holding her own in a contest of brute strength against three fully-grown male weightlifters. The men grimaced and strained and leaned against the rope, but Becky remained calm. A playful smirk spread across her face and she took one hand away from the rope, and adjusted her swimsuit. Becky Finklestein was now matching three of the biggest guys on Muscle Beach with one arm. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and blew a big pink bubble, seemingly. After some discussion, with more than a little bit of coercion on my part, we got the group to agree that using Isolde's life force to fuel Jowan's spell was actually pretty fair. I, however, was not satisfied with that as revenge. She had tortured my friend, had killed dozens through her ignorance and selfishness, and made Alistair's life miserable. She deserved more.Convincing everyone to wait until the morning for the ritual, I dragged Isolde, Teagan, and Jowan aside into a locked chamber. And yes, how I already felt her dampness through the white cotton of her sheer underwear.I looked down to see the dark, wet spot grow as my fingers massaged around her pussy. I slid my fingers up and down what I knew to be her slit, tapping lightly on her clit, teasing her for what we both knew was to come.When we entered my apartment I told her to go into my kitchen and bend over the countertop as we had discussed. She did.She locked her knees and removed her skirt, folding it nicely and.
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