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Chris treated every week as a major milestone, making sure to congratulate her so she could feel the progress as it came. She was proud of herself, smiling with satisfaction – and Chris hugged her, letting her drift off to sleep on his chest. Faith knew that it was time for the erotic sex dreams to start. At this point, she started looking forward to them.As her sleep consumed her, she began to feel the dream figure’s hands fondling her breasts. They softly cupped them and slowly caressed them. She moaned in her dream as she felt his lips take in one of her nipples, sucking hard and making the waves of pleasure travel to her pussy.Faith felt the moisture build in her pussy and wondered if in this dream, she would, for the first time, be fucked by her mysterious faceless dream-lover.She had woken from the dream a few times, cussing herself for it – rarely had the dream continued after it would stop with her awakening the second time.Faith wasn’t sure why it didn’t bother her knowing. "Okay, guys, it's here. Good luck!"I heard the metal rings sliding on a pole above my head; Mei must have pulled a curtain open. Mary tugged me inside, the curtain closed behind us, and then…"MISTRESS NYSSA!"Geez! That was the first time I heard Mei scream like that. Obviously, she knew that person, and it was not a Master-dude; it was a Mistress. A male named Nyssa would just be weird. Considering the joy that emanated from Mei's throat, it was a person she liked very much."Did you really think I would let anybody else play with you, Meimei?" No, Mistress… But I'm still very happy!" Hehe, I'm happy too. So, who are your friends? It's the first time you come with someone else, are you getting more social?" This is Mary and Alex." Nice meeting you, you two. So is this your first time?" Yes…" Yup!" Oh, boy! False start. I will punish Mei for this."Oops… I didn't know what we had done, but Mei got in trouble already because of us. I felt Mary squeeze my arm a little more. She was as.
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It was the most impressive painting. It seemed to consist of only one smooth line, as if he had never taken the brush off of the canvas. It was unmistakingly me, the girl in the painting. It was my body, my face, my hair. Mr. Monet had painted me. As I was staring at the canvas, I felt him touching me. He threw his arms around me and pressed his body against mine. He held my hips and lowered his face into my neck. I could feel his breath on my skin, I could even hear it. I tried to keep my thoughts with the painting, but that proved sheer impossible. "I want you to know," he whispered, "I had no such intentions."I already knew that. I did not either, and yet it had happened. I had fallen for the thought of being naked around him, a thought I had been having for so long, I did not even remember when it had appeared first. "Noëlle..." he said softly. I turned around. I kissed him. I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his. This was not, however, a kiss of lust. It.

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