Cinderella

The buxom young blonde strides towards you and Alice, her torn pink slip hanging by a single strap.

“I, I’ve had plenty of practice,” she says. “I just want one thing in return.”

“What would that be, Cinderella?” you say, smiling at the waif.

“I want an orgasm,” she says.

“An orgasm?” you laugh. “That’s it? Why?”

“I’ve never had one,” the blonde sniffs. “My evil stepsisters would tease and **** my little pussy every night, keeping me from achieving bliss.”

“And you’ve never masturbated it off?”

“No,” Cinderella sobs. “They’d chain my hands at night, and whenever I was working, their evil cat would watch me, making sure I didn’t t, touch myself or use a c, candle!”

“Poor Cinderella,” you say. “How did you let yourself get in such a predicament?”

“My stepsisters promised me they would get me off once I got them off, but they never did.” Cinderella began to cry into her hands.

“Well,” you say, looking around. “I think the best way to help everyone out here is to form a train. I’ll screw Cinderella here. She’ll eat out Alice, who will eat out Belle. How does that sound?”