I reached the baggage claim where more than a few chauffeurs with tablets that had peoples names on them waited. They were all men in suits looking pr...fessional and anonymous, all cut from the same mold. Though their hair and skin were different colors, they all had similar build and looks. One held a tablet with my name: Becky Woodard.I approached it, my carry on bag slung over my shoulder. “Hi.”“Let me take that, Miss Woodard,” he said. I handed it over and he hefted it with ease. “This. As we danced I felt his hands move almost imperceptibly up my sides. It was only because I realised that his hands were now holding onto the bare part of my sides, between the top and the skirt, that I noticed. It felt strange with his hands so close to my breasts. I wondered if he was aware how close he was, but as I felt his thumbs sliding over my stomach and touching the lower part of my breasts I realised that he was perfectly well aware of what he was doing. For a second I felt confused.. Donald told his dad that he sent me back to you naked because I didn’t drink all of his pee.”“Conniving little….” I let it go. It was what it was.She resumed kissing me, pulling my hands to her breasts.“No, Rachel!” I said, pulling away.She frowned, but let go of me. “Why not? I saved it for you,” she pouted.“And I mean to have it,” I said. “After we’re married.”I have never seen Rachel look so incredibly shocked.“But, I want to be your slave!” she protested.“You can be my slave. After you. He’s naked, and hard. Sure, his dick is small, but he has beautiful features, a silky skin, and he’s so innocent, so innocent with his erection, it’s like he simply doesn’t know what to do next. I’m naked already, my is boner pointing to the bathroom. We’re stepping into the bath tub, there’s not much space, I get the shower going, hand him a piece of soap. He takes it, and rubs it gently over my body, starting with my tummy, moving up to my chest, reaching for my neck, avoiding my package. I’m.