" Again, her words confused me. Momhadn't seen me nude since I was - what? Eight? Nine? But this womanwasn't my Mom, was she? And I wasn't Benny Woodridge any more.My name was - what had she called me - Brenda? Bianca? Yes, that was it;Bianca.Bianca Woodrow.All of this streaked through my mind between two heartbeats. There wasmore: images and memories poised to swirl up from my subconscious.Thousands upon thousands of them; thoughts and words and recollectionsof a childhood I'd never lived. A veritable torrent of information. Fartoo much to process under the circumstances. Particularly since I wasvirtually swooning with shock.My Mother was disrobing me in the middle of the Studio.She was placing my lush, young body on open exhibition before thepicture windows. Wailing in protest, I placed my fingertips over mysmall, ripening breasts, gasping as the cool morning air whickeredaround them. I had never felt so humiliated in my entire life.Momma's hands fluttered over my waistline, and. “She can’t feel anything!”“Jake, I swear she can!” Tia cried excitedly. “We’re still connected and she still wants you to fuck her!”“Oh, Jesus, I can’t believe I’m doing this!” Jake moaned as he began ramming in and out of Tara’s pussy again.“She's getting wetter in there, isn’t she?” Tia exclaimed. “That proves she still feels you!”Jake realized that Tia was right. Tara was positively sopping wet – so much so that her girl-cum was replacing the sticky blood that had been lubricating her pussy before. A moment later, he was spasming and shooting another load of cum into her dead body. Tara didn’t respond, of course, but her juices flowed steadily from her slack-muscled pelvis.“She came again, Jake,” Tia whispered, seemingly in awe. “You are truly a wonderful lover. But you should back away, now. It’s almost time…”“Time for what?” Jake asked, then yelped as his shrinking cock suddenly felt like he’d dipped it into boiling water.He backed away quickly, his eyes full of wonder as the.
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