I was wrong.”“Shhh ... there, there. You admitted that you were wrong and you apologized. Don’t worry, I’ll accept your apology and forgive yo... now. That’s all in the past. Besides, you never know if I would have even qualified if I hadn’t had to leave home behind. Who knows what kind of man I would be today? That being said, first chance that Margret gives me, I’m breeding your sweet, plump ass and you know it!“By the way, perhaps the AI can explain the way that Stacey reacted to something. I couldn't verywell back out this quickly. So, I nodded, forced a smile and said,"Of course Mistress Debbie. I'd be delighted to massage your feet."With that, I pulled the covers from her feet, grasped one, and begansoftly massaging her feet.For her part, Debbie dove in to her breakfast. "Mmmmm," sheexclaimed. "This fruit is delicious! I'll have some of this tomorrowmorning I think." Yes Mistress Debbie," I responded.Debbie watched me intently as I settled in to the task at hand.After a while. From my vantage point I discerned Brenda was a suicide blonde -- dyed by her own hand -- and her roots needed retouching.While Tony and Cynthia were deep in conversation, oblivious to the rest of the group, Greg Rogers made his move on Brenda."Where's the sea, dahlin? We've travelled all the way from Buckinghamshire and there's no blooming sea to see."Brenda stared at him as if he had spoken in tongues. Greg's accent, although not Cockney was of London, and Brenda's ears weren't attuned to his. I guess you could call him an oldie, but he certainly was an experienced lover that’s for sure, and knew how to get the best out of me, treating me like a lady in public, and a whore in bed!For an old timer, he had an extraordinary amount of energy, with the ability to make me cum several times over the course of an evening, giving me one orgasm after another, I mean; who would want to give that up; I ask you? He was also very kind, generous, considerate and gentle with me, and I wouldn’t have.