”I went up to the mirror in my room and looked at it. “Damn it, I have to take this off now,” I said.“Yeah, you have too many clothes on anywa...y,” my colleague said. I turned around to look at her. She turned away and laughed.I took my t-shirt off and walked toward her saying, “Now, who has more clothes on, huh?” She didn’t say a word. I slowly climbed on top of her, without putting any weight on her legs. I got on top, leaned forward, and kissed her. Her hair was untied. I slid my hand in her. Reginald groaned, in appreciation and in pain for his cock, so long dormant, had sprung to life, growing excruciatingly hard against the heavy fabric of his night shirt. It tented the fabric to an amazing degree, causing his mother to gasp at the display and for her lady's maids to turn from watching Glendon and gape themselves.With a somewhat timid hand, the queen reached out, grasping the material of his night clothes with two trembling fingers and slowly pulled the fabric up until she could. His cock is larger than mine, and my hand is fairly small. It was a great dichotomy of action, and I was loving it. Precum began to ooze, and I asked him if he was still comfortable with my "doing" his cock. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and sighed. Enough Said! I worked his cock, leaning down toward his crotch. I was now breathing my hot air on his cock head while stroking him. He seemed lost in the moment, and I did not ask for the next move. I simply placed my face above his cock and. Complying with the leg spread required quickly spinning around and pressing my tongue against god’s shithole. The second command was also a test. The bishop now knew that my cunt was indeed wet and hungry, just as any acolyte of the CBBC should be when serving god. This was a test that I knew from experience I was not likely to ever fail. The toe touch also implies a further act of debasement. An acolyte is in no way considered a woman, she is more like a bitch puppy being trained. The toe.