You're very satisfied with where you are now in your career, you love to write and to be acknowledged.Appearance-wise, you are five feet, eight inches...tall with lightly tanned skin and dirty blond hair. You are almost always seen wearing a black suit with a dress shirt as purple as your eyes, though today you've decided to wear a simple, fitted black turtleneck with black jeans. Regardless, you decide to keep your black aviators atop your head. There's no real purpose for them other than to. Clothed for battle, warmth, and stealth, he looked foreign to the eye of the average Norseman. Travel had taught him much when it came to personal defense. His dress consisted of tight leather britches, a form of boot high on his leg made with the sturdy hide of animals never seen in his homeland and laced at the back of his calf. Some type of thin, interlocked metal fell like cloth down his chest and over his shirting, ending at his waist. Over that was a short cover of hide made from the. He stepped closer to me and grabbed my shoulders and turned my around so my back was facing his. I was starting to get a little horny and I could feel my dick starting to swell a little. He began to wash the back of my arms, he was rubbing very slowly and intoxicatingly in towards my shoulders than down to my back. He grabbed the soap and put a little more on his hands and started rubbing my back."Is this where you are dirty," he said."Yeah, right there" I said, and then my horniness started. . .” She opens the stall door! And hands it to me. I see, that she is wearing her white silk robe, unusual for this time of day, but not unheard of on a Sunday afternoon. Still . . . I begin to dry myself. “Would you like me to do that? Give me the towel.” I step out dripping on the rug, This is more like it! She uses it on my head, but then steps back to survey my form. “Mmm . . you've lost a bit of stiffness, I'll help buck it up.”Mom uses the terrycloth to rub me on my genitals,.