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Penni Fitzmon


Had there been any doubt about what would happen now, it was gone. Just as she had done all those times in the dorm basement, Vicky stood before the thing, naked save for her tiny lace panties, watching the tendrils move, the phallic head of one glistening and wet as it awaited her. Her hands came up and her fingers hooked into her waistband, drawing away the thin satin she wore. She felt it move over her buttocks and down her thighs, felt her skin warm beneath it as the panties reached her knees, all rolled up from the motion, then settled to her ankles, where she kicked them away. As the thing took control she stepped forward, its soft, moist tentacles dancing intimately against her and gripping her tight, drawing her thighs widely and helplessly apart, to reveal her and make her ready.

She knew what was to come, and she trembled. There would be no mercy here.

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