bonnie swanson

“Really? You sure?” Her asshole had spread but gripped my two fingers tightly. I didn’t know if another finger would even fit. Carol just nodded, her eyes closed again. Her beautiful red hair cascaded across the island. Her pale skin against the dark granite was lovely. I pulled my fingers out part way and straightened out my ring finger. Forming a triangle with my fingertips, I pushed against her anus again. Already relaxed, her sphincter accepted my third finger with ease. I pushed my fingers in and out, but only to the first knuckle. I thought it might be too thick to push all the way inside. Carol disagreed.

“You can thank Shannon for that. She has some kind of miracle gift when it comes to teas and soups. I can’t explain it; she gets the flavoring exactly right every single time.” Sophia giggled and continued drinking. Down the hall, Shannon, who was doing her best not to eavesdrop, blushed and smiled with her ears twitching happily. “As for what you should do, I’d say you’re on the right path already. Like you said before, your literature program has no future without Cyrilo, or you for that matter, so if either of you are imprisoned or executed, your dream of changing the world dies. You truly can help people by bringing about the Age of Information. Don’t throw that away to alleviate your guilt.

“Because I was like you when I was young. My ego was as great as my powers, and I did awful things because I thought right and wrong didn’t apply to me. Then, when I was finally put on the right path and looked at myself, the guilt was unbearable, eating away at me like a swarm of goblins. My mentor, my predecessor as Light’s Emissary, helped me bear my pain and taught me to carry the guilt instead of dragging it behind me.