How Lina Saved Old Agnes

The summer air was heavy and muggy when Oskar and Lina arrived once again at the creaking wooden door of Agnes’s secluded little cottage. It was their first day here in two weeks; Mom wanted to shield them from the dreary daily grind and have her hands free for Orlando, the 13-year-old blond-curled angel whom she simply had to seduce and ruin. Agnes, the outcast nun with the knowing eyes and the faded tattoo of a rosary on her back, opened the door with a weary smile.

"There you are again," she muttered, stepping aside. "I was wondering where you were."

Lina, whose twelve-year-old soul was already marked by the dark secrets of lust, pulled Oskar into the house. Her gaze met that of the old nun, and a sparkling, conspiratorial gleam appeared in her eyes. “We’ve missed you, Agnes,” she said with a sweetness that tasted more poisonous than honey. “We have so much to tell and show you.”

Agnes sighed, a gesture that seemed to betray decades of disappointment and resignation. “You kids and your stories,” she said, heading into the small kitchen to make some tea. “I’m too old for your little games. My bones are stiff, my heart… tired. I don’t want to know anything about your… dirty little games. The fact that you let your stepbrother fuck you — as your mom told me — is your own business. But that’s certainly none of my business.”

But Lina wouldn't let up. While Agnes was making tea, the girl crept up behind her, her small hands running over the coarse fabric of the habit. "You're not too old, Agnes," she whispered in her ear. “You’ve just forgotten what it feels like to really live. But your body hasn’t forgotten. It remembers.”

Agnes froze; the cup trembled in her hand. “What do you know about life, little girl?” she hissed, but her voice trembled. “What… what are you talking about?” she hissed, her voice like a predator cornered. “Leave me alone.

"I know more than you think," Lina replied, and her fingers found the knot that held the robe together. "I know you're longing for it. I know you’re longing for touch. I know you’re longing for something carnal that reminds you that you’re still alive. You’re a liar. You’re lying to yourself. I can see it in your eyes, how lustfully you look at Oskar. I see the desire, the curiosity. I see the old nun who wants to die, and the girl hidden in the woman who wants to live.”

With a practiced tug, Lina untied the knot, and the habit slid to the floor, revealing the wrinkled but still graceful body of the old nun. Her skin was like old parchment — thin and translucent — but beneath the surface, life still pulsed, along with the desire she had suppressed forty years ago.

"What... what are you doing?" Agnes stammered, but Lina wasn't listening. She pulled Oskar over — he was already standing there with a lecherous grin on his lips, his young cock already hard and ready. Tears streamed down Agnes’s cheeks. “No!” Agnes screamed, trying to pull herself together, her hands covering her full and heavy breasts. “Stop it! This is sinful! This is wrong!” She backed away, her back bumping against the cold tiled wall of the kitchen. “I am a servant of God, even if I am an outcast. My body is a temple, even if it is decaying. I have renounced the carnal, Lina. I’m not made for this!” But Lina just said, “Nonsense!” and tugged at Agnes’s nipples on her heavy, sagging breasts. The nipples immediately stiffened, and Agnes flushed crimson red.

Lina laughed, a bright, cruel laugh that echoed through the small room. “A temple? Agnes, you’re a ruin. A beautiful, forgotten ruin waiting to be rediscovered. We’re here to dig you up, to polish you until you shine again.” She dragged Oskar over — he was already standing there with a lecherous grin on his lips, his young cock already hard and ready beneath his thin pants.

"All three of us," Lina explained, taking off her own dress as well. "All three of us naked, just as it should be. No secrets, no lies, no robes, no judgments — just the three of us and the truth of our flesh." She knelt down in front of Oskar and pulled off his boxer shorts; his magnificent cock flopped out, half-erect. “Oh — Jeeesus — Mary — and Joseph!” Agnes exclaimed in horror when she saw his big cock.

Agnes recoiled, her hands reaching up to cover her body, but Lina was quicker. “No, no,” she said, taking the old nun’s hands. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. We’re here to heal you. We’re here to remind you what it feels like to be desired.” Agnes struggled, her hands pushing against Lina’s, but the girl was stronger than she thought. “I… I can’t,” whispered Agnes, her face a mask of horror and reluctant memory. “It’s been so long. Forty years. I swore… I swore to God…” Agnes was on the verge of fainting. “Girl, what are you doing to me!?” she cried out softly.

"God has abandoned you, Agnes," Lina said coldly. "God has left you to rot in this dirty hole. We are here. We are your gods now. And we demand that you live. Now. So touch him. Now."

Slowly, as if pulled by invisible strings, Agnes raised her trembling hand. Her fingers, stiff with age and tremors, touched the warm, living skin of Oskar’s cock. An electric shock coursed through her — a memory she had buried for forty years. She recoiled as if she had touched a snake.

"No! I can't!" she sobbed. "It feels like... like back then. Like... dirty. Like... sinful."

Lina pulled Agnes into the bathroom, into the small, wet shower stall, where steam was already rising as if the heat of their desires were filling the room. Oskar followed them, his cock already stiff with anticipation. Agnes hesitated and refused to step into the shower stall. Lina simply grabbed her by the hips and shoved her inside without mercy; Agnes’s tears dried up as she stood before the two children. She was helpless — simply helpless. Never before had anyone shoved her naked into a space so decisively and forcefully — perhaps the bishop, yes, maybe him, back then.

"Do you see, Agnes?" said Lina, forcing the old nun to her knees. "Do you see how much he wants you? He wants you — not as a nun, not as an old woman, but as a woman, as a flesh-and-blood being crying out for touch."

Agnes struggled, her hands pushing against Lina's, but the girl was stronger than she had thought. "No," Agnes whispered, but her words were already lost in the rush of desire that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Yes, of course," Lina replied, guiding Agnes's hand to Oskar's cock. "Touch it. Feel it. Feel how it throbs, how it's crying out for you. Feel how much it wants you."

Lina grabbed her wrist tightly. “Stop whining and jerk him off!” she ordered. “You did it when you were young. You can learn how to do it again. It’s like riding a bike, you never forget how. Or maybe you do? Maybe you’re just an old, rusty machine that doesn’t work anymore?”

The words hit Agnes like lashes from a whip. With a mixture of anger and despair, she wrapped her fingers around Oskar’s cock. It felt both strange and familiar at the same time. Warm, alive, pulsing. Her movements were stiff, clumsy — like those of a machine that had been idle for decades. Oskar groaned, but it was a soft, uncertain sound.

Agnes hesitated; her fingers trembled as they touched the warm, living skin. It hadn’t happened in forty years, not since the bishop had dragged her into his chamber and used her like an animal. She had sworn never to touch a man again, never to give in to that sinful lust again.

But now, under the little girl’s lustful gaze and the boy’s agitated presence, she felt that old desire welling up inside her again. Her fingers, stiff with age, began to move — slowly and hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence.

"There," Lina whispered in her ear. "That's good. Feel him growing beneath your hand. Feel him crying out for more."

Oskar groaned, running his hands through Agnes’s gray hair and pulling her closer until her lips touched the tip of his cock. Agnes stopped resisting; her movements grew more confident, her hand tightened around his cock, and her fingers danced across the sensitive skin while Lina’s hand massaged his balls. Agnes hands remembered how to stroke a cock, for as a young, vivacious novice, she had jerked off hundreds of cocks in the convent. Hundreds.

"Not like that, you old slut," Lina said, giving Agnes a light tap on the back of her hand. "You have to feel it. You have to remember. Tell us about it. Tell us about the cocks you've jerked off. Maybe the memory will come back when you talk about it."

Agnes closed her eyes; tears streamed down her cheeks and mingled with the shower water. Her hand kept moving, mechanically, while her voice — hoarse and faltering — began to tell her story. “I was a novice. Fourteen. I thought I was going to devote my life to God. But the monks… they had other plans for us. For us, the young, pretty novices.”

Her hand tightened slightly, her rhythm became more fluid. “The abbot said we were an outlet. A necessary evil. The young monks — they were full of energy, full of vigor that they didn’t channel into prayer. And we… we were the outlet. Every evening. After prayers. We had to go to the dining hall, where they ate. And we had to... we had to jerk them off. One after another. Hundreds of cocks. Every night.”

Oskar’s breathing quickened. Agnes’s hand now moved with a certain ease, as if her muscles were finally remembering after forty years. “I stood there, a young nun, jerking off one monk after another. Their hands on my head, their eyes on me. Some lifted my habit to glance at my naked cunt. Some were gentle, some were rough. Some came quickly, some took their time. I jerked them off until they came — on the floor, on my hands, on my habit. I jerked them off until my arm was so stiff I could barely lift it. I jerked them off until I felt nothing anymore, until it was a chore like any other. Like doing laundry. Like baking bread. Jerking off.”

"The first time in 40 years," Lina said with a triumphant smile. "But we're not done yet. Mom always does it three times in a row with Oskar, and so will we."

A deep groan escaped from Oskar’s throat. Agnes felt the pulsation in her hand, the impending tremor. Her movements grew faster, more confident. She wasn’t just jerking him off anymore; she was playing with him. Her fingers danced over his balls, pressing lightly against his perineum, just the way the monks had loved it.

"I became an expert," Agnes whispered, her breath hot. "I could tell who was about to come. I could tell the different kinds of moans apart. I knew what kinds of touches they liked. I jerked off the abbot, the prior, the sexton. I jerked them all off. Hundreds. Thousands. I was an outlet, a machine. And now... now I’m jerking you off, little boy. And I can feel it again. I feel the power. I feel the heat. Come for me, little Oskar. Come for the old nun.”

Oskar’s body tensed, and his breathing quickened. Agnes sensed the impending ecstasy and slowed her movements for a moment, only to speed them up again — faster and firmer. Oskar’s moans grew louder until, finally, with a deep cry, he ejaculated into Agnes’s hand. The white, viscous fluid ran over her fingers and dripped onto the shower floor.

With a loud, animalistic scream, Oskar came; his semen spurted over Agnes’s hand, onto her arm, onto her chest. It was an explosion after forty years of silence. Agnes stared at the white fluid running down her skin, and then she began to laugh. A loud, hysterical laugh, interrupted by sobs.

"Very good, my dear nun," Lina whispered, kissing Agnes on the lips. "But we're not done yet."

"One," Lina counted with a triumphant smile once Agnes had calmed down a bit. "But we're not done yet. Mom always does it three times in a row, and you're going to do it, too. You're going to do it because you want to. Because you love it, you old liar."

Agnes shook her head, but her resistance was broken. "I... I can't. I'm too tired. My arm..."

"Your arm can handle it," Lina said, forcing Agnes's hand back around Oskar's cock, which was already getting hard again. "And if it can't, then use your other hand. Or your mouth. Just keep going. Jerk him off. Two more times. Right now."

Agnes stood up and rinsed her hand under the warm water. Then she knelt down again and took Oskar’s cock back in her hand; it was still half-hard. This time, her touch was different — more direct, more demanding. Her fingers gripped it tighter, her movements were more forceful. She knew exactly how to jerk off a cock; she’d jerked off hundreds in her youth — it was perfectly normal back then.

"See, Agnes?" said Lina, as Agnes once again drove Oskar to ecstasy. "Every time is different. Every time, we unleash a different part of his soul." Agnes obeyed; her movements were now more confident, more practiced. She jerked him off with a routine that had endured for forty years. Her other hand massaged his balls, her fingers pressing against the sensitive spot beneath his scrotum. Oskar leaned against the wall, his head tilted back, his breath coming in gasps.

"Go on," Lina ordered. "Tell us about the bishop."

Agnes's hand kept moving as she spoke. "The bishop... he was different. Not like the monks. He wasn't just lustful — he was cruel, too. He didn't just pull me into the chamber behind the altar — he dragged me there. He ripped open my habit; his hands were like claws. He said it was God’s will that the young novices serve the men of the Church — not only with prayers, but also with their bodies. He called it ‘grace.’ He called it ‘service.’ But it was rape. Every single time. He didn’t jerk off himself; he made me jerk him off while he preached to me about sin and hell. He jerked off into my mouth and spoke of the purity of the soul. He came on my face and called it ‘holy water.’”

Oskar’s cock twitched in her hand. Agnes jerked him off faster, her movements growing firmer, more demanding. “I hated him. And I… I wanted him. I hated the power he had over me, and I relished the power I had over him when he was in my wanking hand, when he begged, when he screamed. I jerked him off until he was weak, until he begged for mercy. And then I jerked him off even harder, again and again.”

Agnes watched, fascinated, as Oskar's body twitched and tensed once more. She sensed the impending ecstasy and slowed her movements for a moment, only to speed them up again — faster and harder. This time it took longer, but when he came, his cry was even louder, his orgasm even more intense. His semen now spurted only onto Agnes’s heavily sagging breasts, where it ran down with the shower water. This time there was less of it, but it was more intense; his body twitched and trembled.

"Two," Lina counted with a satisfied smile. "One more, and then you're done for the day, my little Oskar. And you, Agnes, you're going to do it. Without hesitation. Without complaint. Understood?"

Agnes nodded, exhausted and aroused at the same time. She stood up and rinsed her hand under the warm water. Then she knelt down again and took Oskar’s cock in her hand once more; it was still half-erect. This time, her touch was different — no longer mechanical, no longer reluctant, but filled with a newfound curiosity.

"Tell us about the abbot," Lina said gently, almost tenderly. "About the handsome abbot."

Agnes's hand moved slowly, almost tenderly. "The abbot... he was younger, more handsome, with gentle hands and a smile that enchanted me. He told me I was beautiful, that God had created me for a special purpose — to bring pleasure to the men of the church. He didn’t jerk me off; he let me jerk him off, but he was gentle. He kissed me while I jerked him off. He whispered flattery into my ear while my hand worked on him. He called me his ‘little flower,’ his ‘valve of grace.’”

A bitter smile played on her lips. “I believed him. I wanted to believe that there was more to life than just the filthy desires of old men. I wanted to believe that there could be love, affection — something pure and beautiful, even if it was sinful. He took me in the garden, under the old apple tree, and I suppose everyone was watching. He stripped my entire body naked and made me spread my legs so that everyone could enjoy looking at my exposed cunt. His cock approached slowly and respectfully, he slowly pushed it in all the way, until I almost burst with lust. He was gentler than the bishop; his kisses were tender, his touch full of passion. For a moment, I felt like a woman — desired, loved. But then it was over, and he returned to his monastery, and I was left behind, feeling as though I had been used and defiled.”

"Gently, sweetheart," Lina whispered, guiding Agnes's hand in a slow rhythm. "Feel how it pulses, how it cries out for more. Let him yearn, but don't let him suffer. Let him come slowly; spur him on only slowly."

Then Agnes knelt down in front of Oskar again. This time, her technique was different. She caressed not only his cock but also his thighs, his stomach, his chest — and his balls very intensely. Her lips found the tip of his cock while her hand continued to work on his aroused cock. Oskar passionately returned the kiss on his cock, running his hands through Agnes’s wet hair and pulling her closer to him.

Agnes’ lips teased the tip of his cock as he came for the third time. Like a sorrowful saint, Agnes parted her lips slightly so he could come inside her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, for it was simply sinful — just sinful, nothing else.

"Next round," Lina announced, glancing at Agnes. "This time we'll do it differently. This time you'll do it the way Mom always did. After jerking him off.""

She stood up and leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees. “All right, sweetheart,” she said to Oskar. “From behind. Take her like a dog, just like you always did with Mom.”

Agnes froze; her hand stopped moving. “No,” she whispered. “Not that. Not again. That’s... that’s too much. That’s too intimate. That’s... that’s a mortal sin.”

"Sin?" Lina laughed. "Agnes, you just jerked off a boy while you were talking about being raped. Do you really think there's one more sin that could send you even deeper into hell? We're already there. Way down at the bottom. So stop being a hypocrite and lean forward.”

"I... I can't," Agnes sobbed. "I haven't done it in forty years. I'm... I'm dry. I'm tight. It's going to hurt."

"So what?" Lina said coldly. "Pain is a form of sensation, too. It's better than nothing. Lean forward. Now. Right this second."

Lina was merciless. “Yes,” she said, her voice as hard as steel. “Yes, exactly that. I’m going to wet your cunt with my spit, you whore of God. You’re going to bend over and take him, just as you always should have. You’ll remember what it feels like to be desired, what it feels like to be taken by a man.”

She pulled Agnes up and pressed her head down until the old nun was staring at the floor, her bare ass exposed to the boy. “Take her,” Lina said to Oskar. “Take her, just like you always did with Mom. Show her what it means to be a woman, even if she’s an old, rusty nun.”

Oskar didn't need to be asked twice. He positioned himself behind Agnes, his cock — already hard again — pressing against her wet entrance. With a deep groan, he thrust into her, his rhythm immediately becoming powerful and demanding. Agnes cried out, a mixture of pain and a strange, forgotten pleasure, as Oskar took her from behind. Agnes let out quiet cries, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Do you see, Agnes?" Lina cried out between thrusts. “That’s the purest form of pleasure. Innocent and dirty at the same time. That’s what we’re all looking for. Feel him. Feel how he fills you. Feel how he brings you back to life.”

Agnes’s screams grew fainter, turning into soft moans. She felt Oskar’s body tense as his movements became faster and more uncontrolled. She felt the old, familiar warmth spreading through her — a warmth she hadn’t felt in forty years. With one last, deep cry, he came inside her; his body twitched and trembled until he collapsed, exhausted, across her back.

For a moment, they remained like that — three bodies, united in the steam of the shower, breathing heavily and savoring the afterglow of ecstasy. Then Oskar pulled away from Agnes and stood up, swaying slightly.

"That was... unbelievable," he whispered, his gaze meeting Agnes's. "Thanks for letting me fuck you just like Mom."

Lina stood up and kissed Oskar gently on the forehead. “That’s our secret, sweetie,” she said to Agnes as she handed her a towel. “Something that belongs only to us. Something that brings us together. I always feel it when Oskar fucks me.”

Agnes nodded as she wrapped herself in the soft towel. She still felt a tingling in her stomach — a strange, exhilarating warmth she hadn’t felt in forty years. She wasn’t exactly sure what she had experienced today, but she knew it was something she would never forget.

By the time they left the bathroom, the steam had almost cleared, but the memory of the images, the sounds, the feelings — they would remain in Agnes’s memory forever, a secret she carried with her and would revisit time and again in the years to come, whenever loneliness overwhelmed her and she sought something warm and alive in a world that often seemed so cold and gray.

Later that evening, the three of them sat in the living room; a fire crackled in the fireplace while the rain pounded against the windows. Agnes, naked and wrapped in a thick blanket, stared into the flames; her face was a mask of memories and regrets.

"It's been a long time," she said quietly, more to herself than to the children. "A very, very long time."

Lina and Oskar sat across from her, their hands intertwined, their eyes alert. They knew that now was the moment when Agnes would speak, when the old wounds would be reopened so that they might finally heal.

"I was young when I entered the convent," Agnes began, her voice hoarse from age and untold stories. "I was fourteen, full of ideals and faith in God. I thought I would devote my life to the Church, to serving the poor and the sick."

She laughed — a bitter, dry sound. “I knew nothing. Nothing about the world, nothing about men, nothing about desire. I was a child, trapped in a woman’s body, and I didn’t know how to deal with the feelings that were welling up inside me.”

She gazed into the flames as if she could see the faces of the past in them. “The bishop... he was the first. He was old, fat, with dirty fingers and breath that reeked of cheap wine. He said it was God’s will that the young novices serve the men of the Church, not only with prayers, but also with their bodies.”

Agnes was shivering, even though the fire was warm. "He took me into his chamber, behind the altar, while everyone was praying. He tore open my habit; his hands were rough, his touch was painful. He said it was an honor to be taken by a man of God, but I felt only filth, only shame."

She closed her eyes; tears streamed down her cheeks. "After him came the abbot of the men’s monastery. He was younger, more handsome, with gentle hands and a smile that enchanted me. He told me I was beautiful, that God had created me for a special purpose — to bring joy to the men of the church."

A bitter smile played on her lips. "I believed him. I wanted to believe that there was more to life than just the dirty desires of old men. I wanted to believe that there could be love, affection — something pure and beautiful, even if it was... sinful."

She opened her eyes and looked at Lina and Oskar. “He took me in the garden, under the old apple tree, and I suppose everyone was watching us. He was gentler than the bishop; his kisses were tender, his touch was full of passion. For a moment, I felt like a woman — desired, loved. But then it was over, and he returned to his monastery, and I was left behind, feeling as though I’d been used and defiled.”

She sighed deeply; the burden of forty years of loneliness and shame weighed heavily on her shoulders. “After that, I never touched anyone again. I swore never again to let a man touch me, never again to give in to that sinful lust. I’ve lived for forty years, locked away in my convent, locked away in my body, locked away in my shame. I only opened my thighs for the quick tongue strokes of sweet nuns.”

She looked at Oskar; her gaze was a mixture of fear and fascination. “And now… now it’s your turn. A boy, barely older than a teenager, and yet… and yet you feel like a man. A real man with a pretty big dick. One who knows what he wants and takes it without asking.”

Oskar slid closer; his hand found hers, his fingers enclosing her old, fragile ones. “I’m not like them,” he said softly. “I’m not taking you out of filth or greed. I’m taking you because I want you, because I crave your pussy, because you’re a sweet girl inside that woman who deserves to be desired.”

Agnes flinched at his words, as if she had never heard them before. "I... I'm old," she stammered. "I'm no longer the young novice I once was."

"That doesn't matter," said Lina, and her hand found Agnes's. "You're a woman. A girl trapped in a woman's body. You have needs, wishes, desires. You have the right to be loved, the right to feel pleasure, the right to live — not just to exist."

They got up and pulled Agnes along with them, back into the bathroom, back into the small, wet shower stall that had already become a sanctuary, a place of rebirth. This time was different. This time, it wasn’t just raw lust that drove them, but a longing for healing, for reconciliation, for acceptance.

He knelt down in front of Agnes, his hands gliding over her aging body, his lips finding hers — gently and tenderly at first, then with growing passion. Agnes no longer resisted; she surrendered to the ecstasy, the warmth, and the affection she hadn’t felt in forty years.

"Let's heal," Lina whispered in her ear as Oskar took her from behind — gently and slowly this time, with a tenderness Agnes had never experienced before. "Let's close the old wounds and banish the old pain. Let’s start anew, together, as a family, bound by desire and a longing for life."

Agnes gave in; her body wrapped itself around Oskar’s cock, and her soul opened up to the affection being offered to her. She felt the old layers of shame and judgment fall away, as the old Agnes died and a new one was born — one who knew that it was okay to feel, to desire, to love.

They came together — three bodies, united in the steam of the shower; three souls, united in the ecstasy of healing. For a moment, Agnes no longer felt like the outcast nun, no longer like the victim of lecherous old men, but like a woman who had finally found what she had been searching for her whole life — acceptance, affection, love.

Later, as they lay curled up in bed — Agnes between the two children — she knew that her life had changed forever. She was no longer alone, no longer trapped in her own loneliness. She had found a family — as strange and forbidden as it might be — but it was her family, and she would defend it with her life.

"Thank you," she whispered into the darkness as Oskar's arm wrapped around her and Lina's head rested on her chest. "Thank you for saving me."

"We didn't save you," Lina said softly. "We just helped you save yourself. You were always there, beneath the layers of shame and judgment. We just helped you find yourself."

Agnes smiled — a genuine smile this time, free of bitterness and pain. She knew that the future was uncertain, that the outside world would judge her if it found out about her small, strange family. But in that moment, surrounded by the warmth and affection of her two children, she felt, for the first time in her life, truly alive, truly free, truly whole.

Agnes lay as still as a mouse while Lina let Oskar fuck her. Agnes listened to her breathing, her gasps, and the moment when Lina’s finger triggered an orgasm on her clit, just as Oskar began to come. Agnes wiped away a tear of emotion with the back of her hand — how beautiful the act between the two half-siblings was!

Lina rested her face on Lina's breasts, and her hand found its way down to the old woman's pussy. “Oskar and I started fucking early on; I was still a virgin back then and didn’t know anything other than jerking off my clit while Oskar diligently jerked off and came in the bed next to me. Oskar was so sweet and tender; he was already fucking Mom every morning after their shower back then and knew exactly what he was doing. Later, when he’d always sneak down to Mom at night to fuck her while she was masturbating, I’d sneak down with him and press my body against his ass to feel him fucking Mom, who kept on masturbating. We were as quiet as mice so as not to wake up grumpy Dad. But I’ve decided to seduce Dad soon. Maybe fucking his own daughter will make him a little happier and more cheerful — because that’s definitely what I want."

Agnes, who found the warmth of Lina’s hand on her pussy so incredibly pleasurable, said, “My dad took me for the first time when I was almost 13. He fucked me every night, and Mom would cry quietly to herself because he only had eyes for me and all she was left with was jerking off her clit beside us while Daddy was fucking me to cloud nine. She was the one who was so deeply religious and got me interested in life as a nun. To be honest, I absolutely loved and enjoyed Dad’s fucking, because he treated me like a princess, he fucked me like a princess. He was very sad that I went to the convent. Maybe he died so young because he was grieving and longing for my pussy.”

They all slept in a tight embrace, dreaming of all the wonderful things that still lay ahead of them during those 10 days.

Lina was just a little bit proud that she had saved Agnes.