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All she wanted now was to go home, lay in bed and wait for his call, letting his soft voice direct her through the moves that she had repeated thousands of times, but with his guidance, the ending was usually earth shattering. She left work early on pretences of not feeling well.Her crotch throbbed in anticipation; she kept squeezing her thighs and contracting her muscles, which didn’t make it any better. The simmer of arousal had gradually become more pronounced, and now, some three hours. I linger here swallowing your breath feeling like I exist because only on what you exhale, feeling a part of you. I let my fingers stroke your hair, luxuriate in the caress on my fingertips. My every sense feels heightened and my heart beat seems to be drumming a tattoo in my chest. I wonder why you can’t hear it. I can feel the blood pumping through my body causing almost a pain as it forces my awareness to the ache in me, the need to feel even closer to you. I think you sense my intensity,. Much to her astonishment, she saw that it was the Master at Arms, the head enforcer of law and civil conduct in Granville. He was a strong and well-endowed man of middle age who liked to sample the feminine wares of any female of the district who wandered into his sphere of influence. She did not know his name and all the townsfolk called him simply, "Master".His sturdy cock was working her into a sweaty lather like animals with no sense of propriety or genteel behavior. She wanted to shout out. “At first, not really. It was just sex, sometimes she complained about how rough I was, but I guess I just slowed down everything after a while.” He chuckles, “And what ‘freaky shit’?” “Clark, don’t start.” She turns, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, I don’t think we need to spell it out.” “I want to hear you say it, come on.”She moves so she is standing in front of him, but turned toward the shower wall. Leaning back a little, she brushes her ass up against his semi-erection. Turning.
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