My hand, which had been on Sofia's breast, moved. Down. Over her belly. Over her hip. To her pussy. The hair, which was dark and coarse, was a forest. My fingers, finding the lips, parted them. The interior, which was pink and wet, was exposed. The entrance, which was tight and small, was visible.
I used telepathy.
The connection, which was a thread of mana, connected me to Seraphina. The link, which was silent and invisible, carried my command. Not words. Feelings. Instructions. The president, who was sucking Sofia's breast, received the instruction.
Her hand, which had been at her side, moved. Down. Over Sofia's belly. Over her hip. To her pussy. The fingers, which were guided by my telepathy, found the slit. The lips, which had been parted by my fingers, were open. Seraphina's finger, which was tentative, pushed in.
