Her ass was on my stomach, and my back was on the bed. She moved her face closer to mine. She placed her forehead on my forehead. Our noses touched ea...h other. She gently kissed my lips and dropped a few salivae onto my mouth.Me: Divya, you are stinking wet with sweat.Divya: But Anu, you smell like roses.Me: Not funny, I too, am stinking.Divya: Your sweat fragrance is so strong, sweet, and pleasant. I swear, I like it.Me(mocking): This is seriously disgusting, so stop it.Divya: Anu, shall we. I mean, my emails and Explicit Messages in advance of the Session spelt out what I dreamed would happen, as did the worship sheet I gave them at the start of the Session – their pics in this studio and the cartoon of me ogling them and spunk running down my trousers. The months came and went as I agonised over asking for the next Worship Session, then the news came through that She retired, just a few months later. So, now for the fantasy that could have come true. I arrive at Miss Leigh’s. I asked her about her husband Leroy and their children. I hated not being a part of their families' life anymore.She told me they were all well and she and Leroy just plod on as usual. I knew they’d had problems a few times in their marriage but Leroy was a great guy. He was a big well-built man who played a lot of rugby, he was black of Jamaican background and we’d always got along really well."What do you mean by plodding along?” I asked, “You guys are ok aren’t you?”“Yeh. We’re ok John, just. The tan of her skin, the blackness of her hair and the shape of her muscles hinted more at a warrior and an adventurer than at a peasant or noble maiden. She bore no weapons though - or maybe had she been stripped of them, as her arms were tied behind her back. Her boots of supple leather were high and worn out; boots of a poor traveller. She wore a ringmail skirt of foreign craft, and bore a modest golden tiara. Her breastplate caught the attention of the King more than any other piece of her.