Dorita spoke well enough to get my jokes, and even be funny herself. She'd sing to me. That's how we first hit it off. Damn near turned the place into...a karaoke bar a few times. I had seen her in there many times, tipped her a dollar here and there across the bar. But she wasn't one to have a drink with the slobs in there. She drank Heineken all shift long, but with the pool players who ignored the girls. Even once she started drinking with me, it never got much past singing. And a little. Arriving at his house I was pleased to find it was a very new place in a new estate, before I locked my car and headed to the front door where there was a note for all massage patrons to knock on the side door. I walked to the side door, about to knock when a rather good looking guy, guessing in his late 40's, opened the door before I knocked, greeting me with a kind smile as he invited me inside.As he closed the door behind us, he introduced himself as Greg and with a rush of delight he placed. “Mmm, she really is living the dream! What do you think she does when her family comes to visit?” She didn’t ask if I thought Grayhound really lived the way the website said she did.I texted back, “Maybe they are open and honest about their lifestyle, and she hopes they will understand or at least accept her choices?” My wife texted back a smiley emoji and then a poop emoji. “Yeah, right! I bet that bitch puts on the thickest sweater she can and pretends she sells stuff on ETSY. Did you see her. "Put your dick inside me. Fuck me hard." "OK here it goes." Bob removed his fingers. Koen's hole didn't closeall the way as a result of the fingering. He squeezed a few dabs of KY on his stiff, dripping cock and worked in onto the full eight inches. Bob leaned forward, took hold of his greased hard-on, placed it at Koen's opening and slowly pushed. Koen tightened up again at the large intruder at the gate of his his most private place. "Don't tighten, Koen, relax as you had done before. It will.