He was ensconced in the reception office, sipping a coffee while reading his racing paper. He was an enthusiastic better on the horses. I waited until...his attention was less concentrated.“Mr. Jones? I am reporting that I have arrived back from the shops. Would you please inform Mr. Dawes at your leisure?”“Sure, Jeeves. Hey, have you any knowledge of the horses?”“I am afraid not, Mr. Jones. I have a policy of never betting. I adopted this policy when I was young, after I heard of a family being. Lashes flicker beyond the masterpiece of her vision. She breathes, lungs shivering as if the oxygen entering them was orgasmic. The blood in her veins caressing her limbs.“Don’t get lost, little lamb.”Death's whisper brings back some of her. Recalling she’s a person and not an exposed nerve submerged in pure eroticism. A speck floating in space.Isabella’s hips search. She knows her knees are far open. Why wouldn’t they be? Whatever’s happening between her legs is so intense she would surely die. It is far more sinister speaking quietly instead.You hesitate so I give you a helping hand by shoving you forward. You fall face first down onto the mattress. Another cry escapes you.“What do you want from me?”“You shall find out soon enough.” I laugh softly. It dawns on you what it is I have in store.“Oh God! Please! No….” You begin sobbing violently.“Sssh…” I soothe. “Don’t fight me. It will hurt if you struggle.”I take the liberty of stroking your hair with my leather gloved hand as though. She was clearing off the table and I watched for a while the gracefulness of her bare steps. She looked at me drying her hands on her robe, unconsciously giving me a peek at her beautiful thighs. I smiled, and patting the arm of the sofa with my right hand, invited her to join me."Here, sugar. I want you to put your tummy right here on this arm" I said.Her face lit up like a little kid that had just been invited to play.She came over and kneeled on the seat next to me, bending over to have her.
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