Now turn over. I need some access." Yes sir, Boss.He lubed the two strings of beads and fed them in. The lube may have been wasted, because I was alre...dy primed. It was all I could do to hold still. He finished, and I rolled up in his lap and kissed him. He tasted good. I could go on kissing him for a while, but we had arrived.Harderidge House is in an authentic Art Deco building, complete with a former speakeasy in the basement. The establishment played to its roots. A little Jazz Age theater. She simply exists.She is slim, ghostly pale, small in breasts (almost non-existent from all appearances with the clothing she wears). Her hair is dirt-brown, an extremely bland face, arms, and legs. Even the glasses she wears are bland, idiosyncrasy of a style gone centuries ago.Her clothing is straight neutral gray, no variations about it in any way known. It is so plain, she simply needs to stand still, and people move past her, or will stand next to her, without a clue. Her steps are like. It was elegantly decorated and had a large, king sized bed in the middle of the room. We dropped our bags near the bed and I flopped face first down onto the large down comforter."Nope, no time for a nap buddy. Up and at 'em!" I groaned and rolled off the bed. The girls untied their sarongs and placed them on the nightstand. We headed out of the room and back through the lobby. The taxi was still waiting outside and we climbed back in. We rumbled off and made our way down a small road. "Easy Chuck. You are going to hurt yourself" I said dryly."I am going to hurt the both of you if you don't release me immediately!" I think you are hardly in a position to tell me what to do Chuck. So do yourself a favor and shut your fucking mouth and relax. Unless you want another purple circle to match the one you already have going."By now mom had taken a seat on the couch, staring in disbelief at the exchange between her son and her piss poor excuse for a husband."Fuck you ya little.
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