High heels clacked a receding rhythm on the tile floor as she rapidly made her way to the glass door of the receptionist office. XXX tight,” Mother complimented. I clenched my teeth, feeling the strain as my Mother’s fingers stretched me. I knew that any cries — be they born of complaint or enthusiasm — would be fast-spread through the efficient office rumor mill. My heart sank, realizing I had forgotten to add the required amount of sugar. Then she applied her other hand, weaving her fingers into the panties, interlacing them around her digits to wrap her entire hand with the slippery material. I grunted, wondering if giving birth might have a similar feeling to my mother forcibly withdrawing her clenched fist completely from my cunt. I knew that any cries — be they born of complaint or enthusiasm — would be fast-spread through the efficient office rumor mill.
