It is all but over now, Leticia having given way to the wanton waylay of pleasure her opponent does so slowly deliver. Their frames were the same, with busts of equal size, but one was a master, a maestro of the softened-square. She had waged too many pitched battles, and bested too many so-called equals, to now fall prey to a novice. And though there is shame with each will-breaking stroke, and frustration with each unwanted orgasm, the young woman will learn, and train, in hopes that someday she will conquer another with the same skill and surety that does so break her here today.
Queen of the Softened-Square
