She clenched her fists and held her breath. She took a deep breath only when she needed to.Jackie skillfully covered Anne’s hip in wax, drip by dri...p. The heat was intense on the one spot on her body, and Anne just wanted it to stop. She was holding back her tears, and did not want Jackie or the other girls to see her cry. Without a word from Jackie, the dripping wax stopped, and Jackie blew out the candles. Anne started to feel relieved that the dripping, hot wax had stopped. Jackie. "You're supposed to be kneeling. Mom says it's more informative about a guy. It's strictly regulation with us, so do it."I do it, embarrassed but pretty helpless. Toni sketches away, and I'm starting to understand that mom is going to be seeing these works of art. Toni begins to explain. Mom is an illustrator and photographer, Dad a businessman. Mom believes that men are made to serve women. It's that simple. Toni grew up believing it, too, of course. Her Father, when he wasn't travelling on. Slowly my wife took off her saree and her petticoat which was still dripping wet. Then she slowly took off her small blouse and her big breasts swung freely. With all the cold, her nipples had hardened and were sticking out like small dark brown pencils. Then covering her bare pussy with one hand and whatever she could cover of her breast, she moved to the beggar. He opened the blanket slightly to let her in and she sank in besides him. Although he opened it only slightly, it was enough to let. As the bra pressed against my breasts it pushed the slime around and spread it some more. Next, I pulled down my sweater praying that it wasn't soaked with slime. Luckily it appeared that it was mostly untouched, warranting a sigh of relief.As I looked down at my pants, I noticed that there was going to be an issue. The tentacle had spread its slime between my inner thighs and had left quite a bit for me there. If I pulled up my pants I would end up with a huge wet spot that anyone would.