Lisle's blush was high, not fading even after the last patters landed in the sand between her re-formed feet.  She felt like a whore in a truckstop restroom, earning her living by providing 'service' in that terrible environment.<br/><br/>The hand against her cheek emphasized the pressure from the inside of her mouth, as if she were just a thin covering - a tissue - as Gerlinde masturbated the massive shaft.  That was what she was becoming.  Nothing more than an object for penetration.  That realization brought a fresh stream of tears to wet Gerlinde's fingers, and more of those muffled sobs as she continued to lick.