If I ever doubted the existence of pheremones, Anya proved them a scientific fact. At this point she commented, "Most American guys aren't used to my ...air, but you seem to know what you're doing." As the 'Brazilian' was at its peak stateside I replied, "Well, most American women could learn something about what to do - or what not to do - with their pubic hair from European women. This is a beautiful vagina."Fortunately, Anya, was completely self-assured and uninhibited so the lights stayed on. “Listen, Demongay I have something to tell you,” Dhiren said in a nervous voice. “I’ve been really worried about this and I hope you don’t think me strange or anything, but…at home I dress as a lady. I’ve been doing it for years.”“Well, so what?” said Demongay, astonished that he’d even raised the issue. He grasped Dhiren’s hand to reassure him. “After all, it’s a free country! How far do you go with your dressing up?”“The works: clothes, make-up, accessories, jewelry, the lot. I’ve even. And when it was finally over, finally, she didn’t care about anything anymore. Not the state of her dress nor her half-stumbling in the semidarkness, not the sardonic gleam in the eerie woman’s eyes nor the all of a sudden flushed rose mouth she beheld, not even the two figures standing outside the door – the bronze-skinned stranger and her Master, as if it mattered now. Her only thought was to flee, fly upstairs and into the imaginery safety of her bedchamber. Shame, shame, shame...By the time. Never before had she been fucked by such a big cock and verbally abused like the previous night.Then the text he had sent her that morning calling her the filthiest names and telling her what he would expect tonight, the final instructions came late afternoon and she had rushed round preparing everything.She stood at the top of the stairs long pink flowing wig, a pink collar with metal spikes adorned her neck, pink nipple pasties, her nipples trying to push through with excitement and thigh.
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