“Why?” I whispered, almost afraid of the answer.You didn’t answer. You just touched me. Your hands getting more and more bold, running under my ...ighty and over my panties. You started pausing on my flat chest to feel my c***dish nipples and then you would cup my tiny mound through my panties. I understood this is why you were sorry, but didn’t understand why – what it meant – why were you touching me? Why were you crying?I just watched – afraid to move. You were so strange. And then as your. She picked up an electric beard trimmer, just as Jess had suggested. Eyeing the rack next to it, she grabbed a disposable razor kit as well. She wasn’t sure if she was confident enough to shave Brent with the blade yet, but it wouldn’t hurt to have it. She picked up a few of the blades she used to shave herself as well.Making the most of her trip, she also picked up a couple bottles of baby oil and an enema kit because, well, why not? Some isopropyl alcohol for sterilizing and containers of. The door to the booth was open just about 3 inches allowing me to see the man inside pretty well. Damn! I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw this big, tall and husky Hispanic guy standing there with his jeans unzipped and a big fat, soft uncut cock in his hairy hand. He looked through the door and saw me standing there and motioned for me to come in. Believe me, I wasted no time getting in there and locking that door. I was down on my knees ASAP, eye to eye with that big fat, uncut dick. . It was sudden. He was only forty-six years old. I was rejoicing. I hated him. My name is Hanna. There are four employees of Charles and Dana Drake. I am the oldest at twenty-six. Next is Geena who is twenty-one, and then Frida at nineteen. They are both maids. I graduated from culinary school. I am the cook. Our gardener, Eric, is twenty-three and sometimes acts as a chauffeur. Mrs. Drake is forty-five and still quite beautiful.Mr. Drake was a bastard. When I was twenty-four he was interviewing.