Stepmom drags her horny stepdaughter upstairs for some steamy girl-on-girl action

“Not her,” he mumbles, “Not my Selena.”
My heart aches as I rush toward him, lifting his face with my palms. XXX This sends him into a frenzy and he flips me over as if I am a rag doll. The release from it feels like a miniature orgasm and I test this paradox on my lover. The sensation builds and races up, up, until it explodes in my mind. Asmodeus loves me, not her, and Ida, with her appearance of pure strength, is not as strong as she could be and certainly not as strong as me. Children were cruel and adults unintentionally harsh about my weight. I want only to be held by my husband-to-be; to be comforted in my decision to stay with him and to borrow some of his boundless energy.