Nude four inch heels, and nude ten denier stockings. Underneath I wore red matching underwear, the bra had transparent cups, the panties, equally shee..., as was the broad waisted suspender belt. Chanel number five perfume. My make up discreet, and very Parisian. I rang the bell, butterflies in my stomach. I knew why I was here. I was here to fuck, and be fucked. A friend of Tyson, who had done him a favour, I was the thank you. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?” He wasn’t asking.He owned me, but I. ” Ms. Pierson mused; he thought he heard Ms. Styles let out a little laugh at her comment. “It’s true.” John said shyly.“Well you know what they say Mister Lovecraft. Seeing is believing. Why don’t you show us this cock that the girls were fighting over?” Ms. Pierson smiled. John couldn’t believe what he was hearing.“What, Here?” John groaned.“Yes here, if I am to believe any of your story. Or I could just expel you now.” Ms. Pierson sat back in her chair.“Okay.” John shrugged as he stood up. More

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