“Do you know what this is called?” he asks. “It’s my weasel.” Father makes a garbled sound and then he coughs. “Is that what the sisters c...ll it?” “Oh, no--they don’t call it anything. But it looks to me like the top of a weasel’s head. I just call it that by myself.” “It’s called a cunt, Angelique. It’s a beautiful thing and not at all like a weasel.” I’ll call it a cunt if it pleases Father, but to myself it will still be my weasel. Weasel seems more friendly than cunt. “Do you know what it’s. When she felt my fingers on her thigh she exhaled softly into my mouth. She pulled her lips from mine and opened her eyes staring deep into mine. She slowly moved her hand up my thigh until she was softly touching my cock. She began to move her fingers up and down the crotch of my pants. She leaned in once again and kissed me only this time with a lot more passion. I moved my hand from the outside of her thigh to inside. Slowly I moved up her thigh until my hand was against her crotch. I softly. More

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