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But you’re not a virgin anymore, are you sweetie?” Somehow that made me feel very good, in my heart, but also in my little pussy. I didn't understand what was happening. But I was tingling on my clit, like Father McCarthy licking it. "You seem to be open to lessons in sex, Brenda. Would you let me to teach you a few things?" I was surprised, but the feelings I had compelled me to agree. "Well, the first thing I'm going to teach you is how to make love without a dick in the process, okay, Brenda?" I nodded shyly. I was still very naive. The priest had been thorough but we hadn't talked about what we were doing much. I was ready for more in-depth training. So, Sharon took my hand, drew me into our bedroom and showed me how the beds would move together to form a larger bed. This was interesting. Had she done this before? I bet she had. Then she slowly took all of her clothes off. She was wearing a blouse and skirt. They came off. Then her bra and her panties, revealing cone shaped,. I've escaped now but I haven't really escaped at all." For no real reason, tears sprang to my eyes and I started quietly sobbing."Come back inside Henry and talk to me about it." Mrna placed a hand gently on my shoulder and guided me through the vines and back to her room. B'nack followed. Bravely trying to stifle my tears, I sat alongside her and accepted the cup of wine she offered. It soothed me and took away some of my inhibitions. B'nack sat opposite us but kept quiet. "You're not happy here," Mrna stated in a low voice, "I've noticed that for some time. Do you wish to return to your real family?" No, I have no real family other than J'cob's," I stated clearly, "But..." Through tears and sobs I tried to explain my loneliness and my feeling of imprisonment without seeming ungrateful for all care and love the elves had shown me. Part way through I saw L'ncze appear in the room but B'nack ushered her out and I continued to unburden myself to the elderly elf whose arms surrounded.
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Did you know that my mother was pregnant with me when she aborted me?” the stranger asked him.“Who are you? And what are you talking about?” Louis was honestly confused by this whole situation.“Well, if I had been born to you, my parents, I would have been a Hatch. Maybe Louis Hatch, Jr. I don’t know for sure. Maybe Pierre Hatch, after your uncle. Instead, I was aborted by my own mother, your ex-wife, Melanie Hatch. Your mother, my grandmother, was named Emmanuelle Marie-Louise Duchamp, in Port-Au-Prince, Haiti. I know that much. She married Reverend Andrew Hatch, converted to Protestant, Baptist Christianity instead of voodoo, but you returned to her faith, rejecting your father’s ... my grandfather’s.“I completely understand why, too. Voodoo, Santeria, these ways are the ways of our forefathers, from back before they were seized in Africa and sold into slavery. They are more authentic. They are more natural and they are closer to the Gods. I should know. I’ve been to the other side.

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