Razor? Who’d a thunk? So very sorry, MISTER Sir.” She typed back. ”
I stand in front of her, watching her, as she starts lightly patting her clit. Stop reading if this isn’t for you. “Thank you Sir, Mister Sir. “Yes, Sir, Mister Sir.” The sound of a vacuum cleaner down the hall is our cue to get back to work. I do bad things. Now remember, no more underwear. (c) J2Two. When I disagree with you Sir, I do it on purpose, because my pussy twitches whenever you make that ‘what are you going to do with me’ comment you always make, Sir. I knew we’d be working late again tomorrow. I’m 45, she’s 25, technically old enough to be her parent, but like so many things with Allison, she was a jokester, so you never took anything too seriously.
