"How do you know Rhonda?" She asked."Miss Crowder? I'm sort of her odd-job man," John answered. "I do a bit of gardening here, mend a few wires there....That kind of thing. I help her out with her psychiatry work sometimes." Really," Daphne said, leaning forwards. Her wine glass was in her hand, but she still hadn't touched a drop."Well..." John started. "I say help out, but really it's just talking to people. And listening. Miss Crowder sends me out to visit people and I talk to them and listen. He let out a shaky sigh and stood slowly, as he did so he lowered his boxers, revealing his package to her, about four inches flaccid between his thighs, a patch of dark hair above his length and under his arms seemingly the only body hair he boasted.She couldn’t help but smirk a little at his size. To Charlene, white boys were so much fun and this one suited her tastes almost to a T. He was undoubtedly male, no risk of mistaking him for a girl like some of her previous partners, no fem-trap.. More

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