I told him to call the waiter in and to pour a glass of champagne for me. I signed his book (wrote the room number) and as I was raised on my elbows, ...sked him to hold the glass while I took a drink and then to feed me with a few strawberries which he dipped in cream, I thanked him and he said he would “colllect the trolley later, madame!” I flopped back down onto my front and the masseur continued his work.He manipulated each finger and toe, worked over my arms and legs and made me yelp when. ..I can't believe I am staring at it......what's wrong with me, why am I so fascinated with it." What I wanted to be only a second turned into seconds and Marcus noticed my eyes staring. I immediately turned my head to the wall in front and hoped that he didn't notice, or would just shrug it off. He left the urinal before me, washed his hands, and said bye to me. Whew, I thought, no worries. However, why was I so mesmerized by his cock? It was just the size I thought, that's it, it had to be. " he told her with almost a girlish glee. "His name's Warren T. Atwell, a bridge officer aboard a merchant ship which Daniel Stewart insures. Lower to middle class, his family were fishermen of very modest means and Warren left home to save them another mouth to feed. Like that fella in Moby Dick, he took to sea an worked his way up under several different captains. " So, what's not to like? " asked Dana. "Hard working and... Handsome?" Let's just say you probably wouldn't throw him out of. Lovely. I hit the E-brake and enjoy the silence. Finally. Home. Well not for me. I mean Christian wants to keep his family home, for sort of Vacation House and while I understand the sentiment I refuse to make this trip annually. I step out, carefully. His drive is chipped and the LAST thing I want to do after that burly-ass drive is break a heel. I grab my purse from the passenger seat and make my way up the stoop. The door is open and I let myself in. ‘Christian, honey? I’m here.’ I call. The.